I followed his gaze and found the little prick, Target, bashed and bruised sitting at the end of the table.
“Him?” I pointed but stared at Wrench. He nodded. “Why the fuck was he anywhere near my girl?”
“I was giving her a ride because no one else could,” the punk offered and I didn’t miss the cocky tone in his voice.
I slammed my palm on the table, finding Optimus with a glare. “Then she doesn’t fucking go.”
“We can’t change what’s done, Kit. We don’t need a lecture, we need a plan,” Loose offered, cooling the air in the room. “Is there anything else we know that might help?”
I gestured to Mix and he briefly went over what we knew about Daniel Ashley. Who he was, what he did, and what kind of people he dealt with.
I pulled the dirty piece of paper from my pocket and slid it across the table to Wrench. “That’s Daniel’s phone number. Our guy from the Lifers, Mansel, he dealt with the asshole a few days back. Sold him some Rohypnol.”
“Roofies?” Leo asked, his eyes wide.
I nodded. “Yeah, Mansel deals with top-end clients who want anonymity. Daniel told Mansel he had some business up here and needed it quick smart.”
“Fuck me,” Optimus groaned.
“I’ll get on this number. Hopefully, we can track him down,” Wrench said as he threw his chair back and stormed from the room.
“Guess, we just wait,” Tally stated.
“I want to see the car,” Rifle said from his place against the wall behind me.
“What?” I heard Target ask but ignored him, turning to look at my Brother over my shoulder.
Rifle’s eyes were glued to Target as he repeated, “I want to see the car.”
Target scoffed. “You can’t come in here and demand shit.”
“Caleb!” Optimus yelled. The Church doors pushed open and the prospect who shot my girl poked his head in. “Bring Target’s car around to the front and let Kit’s boy go through it.”
Caleb nodded and disappeared quickly. Target glared at his president but kept his mouth shut.
“Everybody is to stay close for now. Keep your phones on you if you need to head out, as soon as we know something we’re on it. We’re gonna get our girl back.”
I nodded for Rifle to stay put and sat and waited as all the men except us and Optimus filed out of the small room. Rifle took a seat at the table.
“The car?” I questioned.
“He didn’t have any defensive wounds on him. Someone attacks you, you’re going to fight back or at least hold your hands up to protect yourself. He ain’t got bruised knuckles, or bruises on his arms from trying to shield the blows. Seems off to me.”
Optimus and I both nodded in agreement.
“Be quick about it, I’m running out of time and options.” He didn’t need to be told twice. My fists pounded on the table. “You think he could have been in on this?” I asked Optimus.
He leaned back in his chair. “None of us wants to believe a Brother could betray us.” He sighed and hung his head slightly. “But the more I think about it, the more I think that could be exactly what’s happened. Target isn’t exactly the most well-liked with our girls – club girls, old ladies, strippers, all included. Now I’m wondering why I hadn’t taken the complaints seriously before.”
“I gotta get her back, man,” I said quietly. I’d never felt so hopeless, so vulnerable. I needed Harmony. She’d worked her way into my life, into my fucking bones.
“We’ll get her back.”
It didn’t take Rifle long to return, finding Optimus and me at the bar and asking to talk privately. I knew it was bad. We sat in Optimus’ office, Rifle leaning against the door.
“The seatbelt was cut.”
“Say what?” I stared at him, confused.
“When a car stops in a hurry, the seatbelt has a mechanism that engages and grips onto it preventing you from flying out the front window or whatever. The passenger’s side had been cut so when the car stopped, it simply ripped and Harmony went head first into the dash.”
I was ready to go and lay my frustrations out on that pathetic excuse for a Brother, but Rifle held up a hand, letting me know he wasn’t finished. “What the hell kind of biker owns a brand new BMW?”
“Guess it is a strange choice. But the boy’s always been flashy, likes his high-class shit. He had wealthy parents, just figured sometimes you can take the kid from the rich, but you can’t take the rich outta the kid.”
“I’m about to take something out of the kid. But right now, I’m thinking more like a spleen or a kneecap because he has some fucking explaining to do,” I roared as I moved toward the door.
Optimus held me back and I almost turned to take a swing at him.
“We gotta do this smart, Kit. Use our brains, not our fists,” Optimus growled, pulling me back. “We don’t know what kind of power he has in this if any. You rush out there guns blazing, we don’t know what he’s going to do.”
My breathing was erratic, my chest heaving as I thought about ripping the little bastard limb from limb. “He has anything to do with this, Brother or no Brother, he’s a dead man,” I managed to force out between breaths.
“And I’ll be right there beside you with my shovel, but we think first, act later,” Optimus confirmed quietly.
There was a hard knock on the door and Rifle stepped aside to open it. Wrench barreled in.
“I’ve got him. Huge house over in Mobile.” Mobile was a neighboring town, about a thirty-minute ride.
“Call Church, this guy has guards galore following him around. We need to strategize,” I told them, my mind finally starting to work again, pushing the pain in my heart to the side for now.
Optimus clapped me on the back. “Let’s go get your girl.”
I felt nauseated and wanted to vomit. I looked around the space as my eyes began to adjust, taking in the room. It was huge. When you think about being kidnaped you always envision a damp, dark cell. Concrete floors, chains, maybe even some type of horrid smell. This was not it. The room was beautiful. Cedar wood dressers, a four post bed the size of a small country, floral patterns and incredible paintings adorning the walls. There were stunning ceiling high windows. The curtains were pulled shut, but with a room like this I could only imagine what the view would be like. I spotted a door across the room, it was open and I could see the toilet from where I sat. My stomach finally reminded my brain that things didn’t feel so great down there. I shot off the bed and ran toward the small bathroom, making it just in time to launch the contents of my stomach into the porcelain white toilet bowl.
Unfortunately for me, there was very little inside and I spent a good ten minutes just heaving and expelling the green goo that was my stomach lining. My belly hurt. I wondered if this is what it felt like to complete two hundred sit-ups – just the idea of sit ups made me want to retch again. I was even tempted to check my stomach to see if I’d produced instant abs. It felt like it.
After I’d managed to drag myself off the floor, I cupped some water in my hands from the faucet and tried to suck it down. It soothed the burning in my throat, but not the pounding in my head. I looked up into the mirror and found the cause, a large gash. The wound had been cleaned, but nothing had been placed over it. Not that I was worried right then, the room seemed pretty damn sterile.
I gripped the bathroom doorframe, taking another minute to check out my prison cell. I wondered who owned a place like this. It was stunning. The room not only had the large bed, but also a small leather couch, coffee table and a desk with still enough open floor space to throw a small party. Two big wooden doors which I assumed was the entrance sat across the room. I held my head and stumbled over to them, twisting both the knobs without success.
Of course, who leaves a jail cell unlocked?
I thought about banging and screaming for someone to let me out, but resigned myself to lying back on the bed and trying to pull myself together before someone came looking for me. I managed t
o get the world to stop spinning, but my mind was still going one hundred miles an hour.
Target had sold me out.
The conniving little asshole.
I prayed like hell that I managed to get out of this situation so I could warn the club. I had no idea if he’d done this as some sort of revenge against me or what, but he couldn’t be trusted. End of story. I laughed softly. Even if it were revenge, Kit would never let him live. The thought warmed my belly a little. He deserved everything he got.
I hope I can be in on that, I want a place in line to kick him in the nuts.
I heard the creak of footsteps outside the door and held my head as I forced myself to sit up. My eyes quickly gazed around the room once again, looking for anything I could possibly use as a weapon, but I came up short.
The doors clicked and slowly opened. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the small frame of a young teenage girl was not it. Her hair was beautiful and golden and hung in a plait over her shoulder and lightly brushed her waist. She was wearing a weird type of dress. It was light blue with pinstripes and hit just at her knees. She had stockings underneath and an apron on that was tied over the top.
She looked very young, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old. She walked a little closer, leaving the doors wide open. From here I could see two burly men standing across the hall, their eyes staring straight ahead and their hands tucked behind their backs.
Awesome, bodyguards.
The girl stared at me as she stepped closer. Her eyes were pretty, colored not unlike mine with gorgeous long lashes that I was almost instantly jealous of.
“Hello,” she said quietly. “Are you hungry? I can bring you up some food.”
I nodded. “Yeah, a little.”
She mirrored my gesture, giving me one quick glance before turning sharply and basically running from the room. I wanted to yell at her to wait, but my head began to pound harder and the need to lie down heavily outweighed the need for yelling.
I must have drifted off. Waking to the clanging of cutlery as the young girl placed a tray of food next to the bed. Soup and bread, a muffin of some sort and a large glass of water with painkillers next to it.
“Thanks,” I croaked. When I looked up this time, my eyes widened slowly. The young girl was now sporting a freshly split lip.
She nodded and turned away. “Mr. Keaton will be up soon to speak with you. I suggest you eat.”
Her voice was soft and I barely caught what she’d said before she rushed to the open doors and pulled them closed behind her. This was so strange. I wondered who Mr. Keaton was, my mind finally putting the pieces of the puzzle together.
I was no long with Daniel Ashley.
I had been moved on.
This meant the chances of Kit finding me were becoming extremely thin.
I managed to force a little food down, enough to keep my stomach happy. The fast acting pain killers did wonders and my brain finally started working again.
There was no clock in the room, but it was daylight outside. I couldn’t assume at what point in the day it was, or whether it was still the same day I was taken. With whatever they pumped into me after the accident, it could be days later, or it could be hours. I had absolutely no idea.
Please, Kit!
My hope was slim.
I could be anywhere now.
My heart raced, pumping blood like crazy through my body. My hands shook and my fingers danced. They itched for my guitar. I could get through this if I had my guitar. With my guitar, I had control. I could play what I wanted to play, sing lyrics that empowered me, held me up and I could feel them in my body.
Kit’s voice sounded in my head.
Sing.
I never sang without my guitar. Ever.
A lot of the time I still felt uncomfortable singing with my guitar, but Kit’s voice played over and over in my mind.
Sing. Sing.
So I did. My voice seemed so loud in the large room, or maybe it was because I was so used to having to sing over the sound of the guitar. I’m not sure, but it sounded strange and kind of pretty. I tried to feel the words of the song, it was different, but I did it anyway.
While I wasn’t Mylie’s biggest fan, her song ‘When I Look At You’ was the perfect representation of my feelings. It was about realizing that someone was more to you than just a lover. That was what Kit had become, he was my song in the silence.
“You have a beautiful voice.”
I jumped about four feet into the air and spun around to find a man standing in the doorway. He was tall, handsome even for his age which I gauged was around late fifties. He wore a well-tailored charcoal suit and his hair was gray, matching the tidy beard that framed his face. There was something familiar about him.
I sat at the edge of the bed, not moving or speaking as he walked around me, his eyes grazing up and down my body. The strange thing was, it didn’t feel sexual. It was like he was studying me, trying to decipher who I was. What I was. Asking questions, but he seemed like he’d be the type of man to already know the answers.
“You weren’t what I was expecting.”
I looked down at my short jean cut-offs and plain T-shirt. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint.”
A small smile formed on his mouth and he shook his head. He leaned against the back of the leather couch and crossed one leg over the other as he folded his arms, his body relaxed. “Oh no, I’m not disappointed. In your picture you looked a lot like your mother, but seeing you now there are a lot of differences.”
I tensed and shot him with a dark glare. “What do you know about her?”
“I know everything about her. At least I used to.”
“Get to it. What do you want?” My body now finding some fight, my protective mind kicking in.
“I wanted to meet you.”
“Why?”
“I believe a father should know his daughter.”
My men suited up, ready for battle.
It was part of the Brotherhood that I loved. Not just being president and making orders and demands. But knowing that no matter who you were as part of the club, the president, an officer, a prospect – your Brothers had your back through thick and fucking thicker.
Mix had warned us about who we were dealing with. These guys didn’t mess around. There was a reason Daniel Ashley traveled everywhere with men to protect him. They weren’t afraid to shoot first and ask questions later if they thought their boss was in trouble. There was a chance that things would go ass up and we could lose men. I knew this, and my boys knew this, but they were ready to do what it took to get my girl back. And we would do whatever it took.
We’d left Target at the club. Doc had given him some great ‘pain meds.’ He should be knocked out for a few hours. If that failed, there were still a couple boys there with orders to not let him leave. We were still trying to keep suspicions down in the event he was a bigger player in this game than we thought. I had a feeling he was just an easy pawn with a severe hatred for women.
The gated house sat above us on a hill. We had members from both clubs here, but Optimus had made it clear that I was leading this operation. Optimus, Wrench, Tie and myself sat in a car, watching and waiting as the rest of our men got into position around the house. With more than twenty of us ready to break this shit down, and predicting ten or so men of his, things were looking positive.
My body itched. I was ready to make this asshole pay.
The house was far enough on the outskirts of town that there wouldn’t be a lot of attention on us. There were still a few neighbors around who could possibly hear the commotion and call the police. So we needed to be in and out as fast as possible. No fucking around.
“They’re in place. Ready when you are,” Optimus said, his voice serious and his face stern.
“Let’s do this.”
Optimus nodded, sending a quick text on his phone. “Wrench, get the gates.”
Wrench jumped out of the car and jogged across the road. There wa
s a keypad next to the gate, Wrench plugged a little device into it and pressed a couple buttons. After a few seconds, the gates started to open and I gunned the car. We pulled up next to the gates and Wrench jumped in before we sped up the driveway.
We knew alarms would already be going off. We were prepared as I slammed on the breaks just before the front doors skidding to a halt. The large doors flew open in time with our car doors. We all climbed out the opposite side of the car, using it as protection while two men exited the house carrying handguns.
We were far better prepared.
“Up and over,” Tie called. We all covered our heads and huddled behind the car as he lopped this exploding beanbag type thing toward where the two men stood. It was like a small grenade, but it wasn’t meant to kill, rather incapacitate. It was like being hit with one hundred tiny paintballs that were going to fucking hurt. We heard the soft bang and the men yelling out in pain, along with the little balls pinging and ricocheting off all the surrounding surfaces.
I peeked over the hood of the vehicle. The men were lying just outside the doors, rolling around and groaning in pain on the concrete tiles.
“Get their guns,” I said as I took off up the small incline of stairs. Tie was right behind me, grabbing one gun as I whipped the other away, Optimus and Wrench covering our backs. I patted the guys down, they screamed, obviously still sensitive from the small explosion. Optimus and Wrench zip tied them to a pole and we worked our way into the house.
I heard a few gunshots outside, and I hoped and prayed that my men would make it out of here in one piece. We were all willing to give our lives for the club, many had done it before us, but it didn’t make losing a Brother any easier.
There was a large staircase straight ahead which lead up to a small landing on the second floor. Doorways opened up to either side, one to a small living or entertaining room, the other to what seemed like a dining room. The house was huge, with hallways that led who knows where and rooms that opened into other rooms.
Harmony (The Club Girl Diaries Book 1) Page 18
