She turned down a dirt road. There was a hand-painted sign, dark black letters against a chipped white background. “Dead men tell no tales,” it warned her. But this was where the Stealers were, so she turned and slowly drove up the lane. About fifty meters down, she came upon a chain that stretched across the road. She stopped before it, unsure what to do. And then her heart stopped as two men emerged from an abandoned-looking building and strolled over to her car.
She was dressed as normal as she could manage: jeans that weren't too tight and a baggy black shirt, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She had no idea what would make the members of Soul Stealers angry, so she needed to be as nondescript as possible. She rolled her window down all the way and watched as the men walked towards her. They were both over six feet tall and heavy, both with shotguns in their hands.
“I’m here to see Charlie,” Dakota said, not allowing her voice to waver or shake. She looked at both men in the eye, extruding a confidence she did not feel.
“You got an appointment?” one of the men asked, leaning into Dakota’s window and peering around her empty car while the other gentleman circled the vehicle.
“Yes, I do,” she said, not giving him her name.
“Pop your trunk,” the man ordered as he shined a flashlight through her window.
Dakota did as she was told and she watched through her rearview mirror as the second man looked in her trunk. There was nothing back there but the spare tire and he was done quickly. She watched the other man join his friend at the driver’s side window.
“Looks all clean,” the second man said, staring at Dakota. “Pretty brave for a pretty girl like you to come all the way to Echo Lane.”
“I have some business to offer your club and I can’t imagine your boss would be happy with you delaying me,” Dakota said. She had no idea what she was doing. She was copying the movies she had seen with gangsters and spies, with no real idea if this was how people acted in the real world. But her confidence seemed to work as one man nodded at the other and they walked over and released the chain, allowing her to drive through.
She drove and watched them put the chain back in her rearview mirror. Her heart was pounding, but Dakota knew she had already gotten past the first part of the gauntlet. One down, but who knows how many left. As she continued down the dark road, Dakota could see lights in the distance in front of her. It was a large, but dilapidated house that someone had started to work on. Falling rafters were held up with unfinished two-by-fours, windows were boarded up, and new stairs had been put on the front. But the main building itself was musty and old, the roof covered in moss, the exterior walls covered in a chipping black paint.
And in front of it were several men, tall and strong. They sat next to a line of motorcycles. Each one had a beer in his hand and most were smoking. Dakota could smell tobacco, weed, and something else. It was a nasty chemical smell that stuck in her nose and wouldn’t leave.
Dakota wasn’t sure what to do, but she knew confidence was key. She parked her car in the lot, turned off the engine, and got out, walking towards the men outside the building with confidence. She carried nothing in her hands. As she approached the men, most of them just stared at her with a glassy-eyed expression.
“I’m here to see Charlie,” Dakota said to the group. “I have an appointment. Is he inside?” She was determined to remain in control of what happened.
“Chip, frisk her,” she heard one man say.
Without breaking, Dakota spread her legs and put her palms against the rough wood of a railing. She felt a man run his hands up and down her legs, over her butt, her stomach and her breasts. She didn’t flinch or react at all. She felt him slip the photo of the money out of her back pocket and he gave a low whistle. “You done?” Dakota asked, turning around, “because that’s for your boss. Where is he?” She took the photo out of his hand and waited for the man to respond.
“He’s inside,” he said, jerking his head towards the door.
She didn’t wait another moment. She turned and walked up the stairs, past the men who openly ogled her, one letting out a wolf whistle that made Dakota roll her eyes. She pulled at the door, hoping that outside was just a ruse to fool people, but inside the structure was much like the outside. Someone had redone the floor, but it was just rough wood. Inside it was one big open room with a few ratty couches and sinking chairs, a TV in the corner emitting nothing but fuzz.
There were fewer men inside, most of them surrounding the TV, trying to get it work. This is it, Dakota thought to herself. This was who was trying to kill her family, a group of men who couldn’t get the TV to work? It made sense that they had failed so many times. It was sad, really, these men all grouped together with nothing to do but ruin other people’s lives. It was nothing like Scarred Angels, nothing at all.
No one said anything. A woman had just infiltrated their club and no one inside seemed to notice. Dakota began to have real hope that her plan would work. The Soul Stealers were desperate and disorganized; they would want the money, if only for cable. But where was Joey? She didn’t see the battered man anywhere. There were two other doors in the long room, but she had no idea which one was hiding him.
Finally, Dakota spotted someone who looked like he knew what he was doing. He was an older man, with short, dark hair that was greying at the temples. He was standing over a desk made by a board sitting on stacked cement blocks. There was a map in front of him and sticky notes with an unreadable scrawl, tacked at various places on the map. “Charlie?” Dakota asked walking up to him.
He whipped his head up and faced her and a snarl appeared on his lips. He looked over at the men watching TV and shook his head in disgust. “You just walked in here, didn’t you?” he asked. His voice was low and gravelly, and he didn’t look like a biker. He was tall and lean, but clean-shaven, with short hair. He was wearing a business suit and it looked like he had never even seen a motorcycle, let alone ridden on one.
“Your guards on the road searched my vehicle,” Dakota offered as she threw down the picture of the money.
Charlie stared at it for a moment, a dangerous smile playing across his lips. “You didn’t bring it?” he asked.
“Do I look like an idiot?” Dakota asked. “The money is in a locker at the airport. You give me Joey and the name of the man who attacked me and I’ll give you the code to unlock it. Once we can prove you’ve given the right name for the man who's been hurting my family, I’ll give you the other million.”
“And how can I trust you, Ms. Kane?” Charlie asked. “How do I know that bag isn’t filled with fake money? How do I know the police aren’t waiting to arrest who ever opens that locker? How do I know you’ll give me the other half?”
“How do I know you’re going to keep your part of the bargain, that you won’t kill me and Joey after getting the first number? Trust needs to starts somewhere, Charlie. Send a man to the airport. I’ll wait to make sure he has the money and is on his way. Once he is, Joey and I will leave, and I give you my word you’ll get the other half if you give me the real name. And trust needs to start somewhere, but I think we should trust not each other, but our motivations. I want this to be over, and I think you want the same thing, plus money. This way, we both get what we want. There’s no need to double cross or lie. Let’s just get what we want and get out. Now let me see Joey. I need to know he’s alive.”
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
They drove as quietly as they could into Echo Lane. Adam was in the lead with Robbie, Mike, Bill, and Wade following behind him. According to rumors, the Stealers hadn’t tamed Echo Lane yet. It wasn’t surprising that it would be a tough job. When a real biker gang set up shop in a neighborhood, they got to know their neighbors, got rid of other competition. The point of it was to turn those neighbors into a sort of front line. They would tell you when someone else was riding on your turf. Adam wasn’t sure how much the neighborhood liked the Stealers, if at this exact moment a
call was going to the Stealers letting them know Scarred Angels was coming.
They were a block away from the long lane that led to the Stealers’ headquarters. The men all silenced their bikes, turning off their lights and using their legs to propel themselves forward. Once they were close enough, Adam and Robbie hopped off their bikes and hunched over as they began to make their way through the rubble and trash towards the two men who Adam knew guarded the road. He could just make out the chain that stretched across the road and knew they must be close.
They stopped and listened, hearing the faint sound of music coming from one of the outbuildings. Together the two men silently snuck up and peered through the window. As Adam suspected, it was a shithole. A literal hole in the wall led to a small room with a futon mattress propped up as an imitation couch. Two men were smoking and listening to the tinny sound of music playing from a cheap cell phone.
Adam nodded at Robbie as he pulled out his shotgun and Robbie did the same thing. Adam silently counted to three and then he ran into the hole in the wall, into the sneaking room.
“Don’t move, don’t speak,” Adam hissed. The two men both looked shocked and confused, staring at Adam wide eyed, both of their hands in the air. Robbie hurried over and pulled their guns and knives free, putting them in his pocket and nodding at Adam. “Clothes off,” Adam spit. The two hostages look confused at each other, and didn't move. “I said, take them off, down to your boxers.”
The two men were quick to obey, stripping off their dirty jackets and town jeans, all of which Robbie scooped up and threw out into the woods. Once they were undressed Adam had them lie on their stomachs on the floor and watched as Robbie expertly hogtied them both up, gagging them, as well.
Adam didn’t bother to ask if there were others out here. He couldn’t trust either of these men to tell him the truth. “Clear, over” he said into his walkie-talkie.
Somewhere down the lane Mike, Bill, and Wade silently brought their bikes. They parked them in the guardhouse and, silently, the five men made their way to the Soul Stealers’ headquarters. They stuck to the scrub on the side of the road, ready to drop to the ground if car lights came, but there was only silence, and the only light came from the dilapidated building not far ahead.
“The fuck, Adam?” he heard Mike whisper. “Isn’t that the Kane girl’s car?”
Adam’s heart stopped. It was Dakota’s Prius. Parked amongst motorcycles and dirt bikes.
“What’s that doing here? She working with the Stealers?” Robbie asked.
“Working with the Stealers, they tried to kill her! You think they got her in there somewhere?” Mike asked.
But Adam didn’t know. He hadn’t contacted Dakota and she hadn’t contacted him. He had put her out of his head, determined not to let his feelings affect his judgment. He never thought this could happen, Dakota here. In his mind, he had assumed she was under lock and key at her father’s house, safe and sound under the guard of another man. “Plan doesn’t change,” Adam said through clenched teeth. The plan couldn't change. At this moment, he knew the rest of the Stealers had left their headquarters and were on their way. There were too many moving parts for it to all be tossed just because Dakota’s car was in the Soul Stealers’ driveway. He forced it out of his mind, refused to let his imagination run wild. He needed to stay in control, now more than ever.
“I count nine out front,” Mike said as Robbie and Wade left in separate directions. They would circle the building and come back with a count of who was inside.
Adam watched the men in the parking lot. Of the nine, three were smoking weed, two were smoking cigarettes, and four were smoking crack. He couldn’t help but smile. Seven out of nine stoned to the point of incapacitation. Taking the outside of the building would be easy. He glanced at his watch, knowing the rest of Scarred Angels was only fifteen minutes out.
“I count ten more inside, and I saw Dakota,” Robbie said as he and Mike rejoined them. Adam stomach dropped, but he refused to let his facial expression change. “She was talking to the leader, a guy named Charlie. He don’t look like any biker I’ve ever seen.”
“Joey?” Adam asked.
“No sign of him. What is Dakota Kane doing here?”
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter,” Adam said. “We need to secure the exterior.”
“Should we wait for the rest of the guys?” Mike asked.
“Nine guys, seven of them high. I think we can take ‘em.”
Guns drawn, the five men fanned out and silently approached the building. Adam couldn’t help but be disgusted with the Soul Stealers security. They no doubt assumed that Echo Lane itself would keep most people away, but Scarred Angels wasn’t most people. But the Stealers didn’t know they were coming; they probably thought they had enough time. Or they thought holding Joey hostage would keep Scarred Angels away. They were wrong on both counts.
At once the five men emerged from the thin trees that surrounded the headquarters. Their guns out, they raced at the nine men who were sitting outside.
“Don’t move, don’t speak,” Adam said, holding his shotgun against one man’s throat as his fellows surrounded the smoking men. The men were high and clumsy, struggling to their feet, their glassy eyes staring around them in confusion.
“Guns, weapons, drugs, on the ground,” Mike said, his shotgun pointed at the Soul Stealers’ heads.
They watched as the men tossed pistols, switchblades and bags of white powder down onto the ground. Adam kept glancing at the door to the headquarters, but no one came out. And no one out here made a sound, but he didn’t know how much long he could count on that.
“On your knees,” Mike ordered, and one by one in a line the men fell to their knees and were quickly hogtied like the other men at the guardhouse, left on the ground to make themselves as comfortable as possible. They had done it just in time. Adam could hear the roar of motorcycles behind him as Scarred Angels came pouring down the dirt road to wage war against the Soul Stealers.
Dakota, he thought. He knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help himself. Did they have two hostages? Had they hurt her? How had a simple protection contract turned into this?
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
“Bring out the boy, and send Mac to the airport, remind that idiot that he can’t bring anything in there or the cops’ll get him,” Charlie said to a man slumped over in an old armchair.
The man slowly got up and walked to one of the doors in the large room, unlocked it, and emerged a few seconds later, bringing a battered and beaten Joey out with him.
Dakota looked at Joey and he attempted to give her a smile, but it turned into a wince and he gave it up. His nose was bruised and broken, his left eye was swollen shut and his bottom lip had been split open, but he didn’t cry or beg for help. He stood as tall as he was able and glared at his captors.
“If the money is there, Joey is yours. The name of my backer, however...that I cannot so easily part with,” Charlie said as Joey was dropped onto his knees on the floor and the man walked out into the night.
“All I want is a name. However much your backer has paid you, I can pay you more. And let’s be perfectly honest with ourselves, you haven't done a great job with this, and I can’t imagine your backer is happy. You give me the name and then you won’t have to work for him or anyone else for quite a while. No need to clean up this mess. We can just sweep it right under the rug.”
Charlie looked at Dakota. His eyes travelled up her body until he finally looked her in the eye, but Dakota was used to this by now and she stared at him as he treated her body like something that existed solely for his pleasure. She refused to be intimidated by this man who treated her life and the life of her father as if it were nothing.
“Two million,” she said with confidence. “Two million for the name of the man who hired you to kill my family. Cash, unmarked bills.”
Charlie licked his lips and looked from Dakota to Joey. “And what about Scarred Angels?” he asked.
“Yes, we’ve made some enemies. But with three million dollars, the Soul Stealers won’t be a joke anymore. We’ll be a real threat. Are you willing to do that to Scarred Angels, to Adam Mendel? Are you really willing to fund their enemies?”
“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect my family. We don’t want any of this. We never did. Three million dollars gets us out. Whatever happens after isn’t my concern,” Dakota said.
HANDS OFF MY BRIDE Page 21
