Keys To My Cuffs (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 4)

by Lani Lynn Vale

  ***

  “Yes, it’s my daughter in law,” Andrea’s voice said from far away.

  My eyes strained to open as I listened to the conversation going on around me.

  “She’s very lucky, ma’am. The bones aren’t broken, but they’re going to need a lot of rest for the next few weeks. I’m almost tempted to go ahead and cast her arm, but I think that’s a little overboard. I’d be more comfortable with an orthopedic specialist checking it out tomorrow,” I heard a man’s voice say.

  “Okay, we can do that. And what about the baby?” Andrea asked, worry lacing her voice.

  I perked up at that, too.

  I’d really like to know about the baby.

  “Baby boy Rector is doing perfect. He looks big and hearty. A perfect twenty four and a half weeker,” the man said encouragingly.

  “Thank you, Dr. Royce,” Andrea said, followed shortly by the door to the room closing.

  Andrea’s weight shifted to the side of the bed, and I finally managed to open my eyes to find her staring at me, tears steadily dripping down her cheeks.

  The only thought that I kept thinking about, though, was that it shouldn’t be Andrea sitting on my bed right now. It should be Loki.

  Where was he?

  “Where’s Loki?” I rasped.

  Andrea shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Then it all came back to me, and I wished I hadn’t woken up to this nightmare.

  ***

  Loki

  “You son of a fucking bitch!” I snarled, launching myself up from the chair only to be stopped short by the chains that Mick conveniently took from the equipment room.

  One end was connected to the table, while the other was connected to my ankle.

  He hadn’t bothered to restrain me any other way.

  The son of a bitch was too cocky.

  “Oh,” Mick grinned. “Temper, temper!”

  I wanted to shove Mick’s smile through his throat by way of my fist. Stupid fucking arrogant bastard.

  The metal of the cuff cut into my ankle, but the pain didn’t lessen the ache inside my heart each time I replayed Channing’s agonizing scream over and over again in my head.

  I closed my eyes as the scream reverberated through my head once more, making my skin go clammy; although, part of that might’ve been the after effects of the percussion grenade.

  I was still nauseated, but now I couldn’t tell if it was because of my terror for Channing, or the goddamn grenade exploding in front of my face.

  “Got the two of them in the cage, boss,” a man said as he came in the room.

  He was dressed nearly identical to what I used to wear all those years ago.

  Black leather pants, cut off black t-shirt, and a leather cut that declared him a member of The Crimson Horde, the gang I’d used to belong to. The man didn’t look familiar, though. What he did look like was a dirt bag, and the picturesque version of what everyone in America considered a common criminal.

  Long hair. Greasy and unkempt. Soiled, ripped jeans.

  The red bandana was even wrapped around his head exactly like every low-life thug in the business sporting their ‘colors.’

  Then what the man said finally struck home. He’d only put two in the cage. Not five.

  My guess was that Sterling and Parker were out, and most likely Cleo. They were the furthest away from the exploding grenade, and the most likely to be able to orient themselves the fastest. Their training was extensive.

  Mine hadn’t been anything to sneeze at either, but ours was nothing like the parajumpers and the SEALs.

  “Did you search them?” Mick asked.

  The man nodded. “Took their guns. They had one each.”

  Rookie mistake.

  I knew for a fact that my stepfather carried one gun on his hip, and one on his ankle. I’d learned a lot from the man in that way, which was why I still had the gun at my own ankle, too.

  I was just waiting for more information on how many more men there were; however, now that I knew that three of us weren’t locked up and/or being contained, I had a little more wiggle room.

  That was good, too, because I couldn’t stay here much longer without getting to Channing.

  I wasn’t stupid though. There could be a hundred men outside. If I were to take out Mick, they could all pour through the door, and I’d never make it to her.

  I waited.

  He’d make a mistake here soon, and I’d take advantage. Take him down quietly.

  No fuss meant no men checking up on it.

  “What’s that look for, Rector?” Mick asked uncertainly.

  I hadn’t realized I’d been smiling, but I quickly wiped the smile off my face and stared at him blankly.

  It wouldn’t do to give away my hand just yet.

  I had to find out where the other three men were.

  Then all bets were off.

  Or they would’ve been, if Channing’s stupid brother hadn’t come in guns blazing.

  “You stupid fuck! You said you wouldn’t hurt my sister!” Andrew yelled.

  He’d obviously never handled a gun before, either.

  Because he was holding it like the old school gangsters on TV with the barrel turned sideways and held above his head.

  He kept jabbing the gun in Mick’s direction, slinging insults all the while Mick stared at him drolly.

  “You done?” Mick asked once Andrew paused to take a breath.

  His gun hand was shaking, showing his obvious discomfort with the situation.

  I knew where this was heading, but the two of them were advancing on each other, booking no room for arguments or interruptions.

  “No, you stupid prick. You said if I brought Varian here, you’d leave my sister alone. You said you only wanted him,” he gestured towards me with the gun.

  I froze, afraid if I made any sudden moves it’d set Andrew off, and then he’d start shooting.

  “You knew what you were signing up for. Don’t act all emotional now. You know,” Mick said turning his back on Andrew. “Bryce, did you know that Andrew was the one who set up your precious little woman all those years ago?”

  I looked at him, confused.

  “What?” I asked.

  “No!” Andrew screamed.

  Spit flew out of his mouth, and his eyes, which had already looked squirrely, turned positively manic.

  Mick smile.

  I saw it happen. I knew it was about to happen, and there wasn’t one damn thing I could do about it. Not if I wanted to live. Not if I wanted Channing to live.

  Mick pulled his gun out from his holster, calmly aimed, and fired.

  “No!” I yelled, but it didn’t matter.

  The gun barked. Mick’s hand jumped with the reverberation of the gun, and I stared in horror as Andrew’s lifeless body dropped down to the ground.

  One clean hole in the space where his nose had recently occupied.

  The smell of gunpowder filled the air, and I watched the blood spread across the black tiled floor in fascinated horror.

  My hands went to my hair, and I breathed in deep. This was going to kill Channing. Absolutely kill her.

  “Piece of shit,” Mick growled, before turning back to me, gun still in hand.

  “Want to know what this’ll play out as? A cop killing a madman who had two cops and a civilian held captive. Too bad the mad man killed the hostages before I could save y’all, right?” He provoked.

  Then he leveled his gun into the air, took aim, and my eyes closed. Not wanting to see it coming.

  “Don’t get up,” I heard Parker say from behind me just as a gunshot rent the air.

  I stared, heart pounding wildly as Mick fell back to his back, clutching his chest.

  “He’s got a vest on,” I managed to get out.

  Mick started laughing. “Oh, Peter Parker Penn. This is rich. Does Bryce here know who you are?” Mick coughed.

  Pa
rker stripped him of his weapon, found the keys to my cuffs, and tossed them to me.

  I quickly unlatched the cuffs, pocketed the keys, and withdrew my gun in one swift move, leveling it on Parker.

  “What the fuck is he talking about?” I snapped.

  Parker’s eyes went from me back to Mick who was laughing and groaning in one seemingly long expel of breath.

  Parker got the cuffs on Mick’s side, rolled him over quickly, and cuffed his arms together behind his back.

  Mick heaved. “He’s the one who slit your throat, Bryce. How perfect is this? It’s like a fucking family reunion!”

  I blinked, unsure what to say.

  Lowering the gun, I stared at Parker, finally realizing what it was about him.

  I knew him a long, long time ago.

  “That true?” I asked, raising my gun again.

  Sterling came in with one arm under Cleo’s, supporting half his bodyweight.

  Sterling sat him down, and took in the interaction between me and Parker.

  He was torn. I could see he was torn. However, he chose me, coming to stand directly behind me.

  “What’s going on?” Sterling asked.

  “Parker’s the one who gave me this decorative necklace,” I explained to him, fingering my neck, and the scar that ringed it.

  Sterling stayed silent as Parker’s head hung. “It’s true.”

  I lowered my gun, and then re-holstered it. “Are there anymore out there?”

  Sterling shook his head. Cleo was the one who answered though.

  “Nope. There were only four of them. I think they spread themselves too thin. They didn’t do much recon when they were hitting this place. Otherwise they would’ve known the room was divided into practically two halves. Lucky for us they didn’t, otherwise we all would’ve been tagged with that grenade,” Cleo declared.

  I kept my eyes on Parker, who’d looked up at me in confusion.

  “I’ve regretted that day for fifteen years,” Parker said quietly.

  I blinked. “You’ve regretted it? You nearly killed me.”

  He shook his head. “I was a nine year old kid. I was dumb and full of myself. I have nightmares. I live those moments over and over in my sleep. My dreams are on repeat. They’re on a continuous loop of when you looked at me in such horror. Remembering what it felt like…sounded like when the knife sliced through your skin. It’s nauseating, and I hear it in my sleep.”

  I stared at him for a long time, ignoring Mick’s snickers at how awkward the situation was.

  I wasn’t mad at Parker, though. I’d have done the same thing when I first got in, too.

  It was hard not to. It was either survive or die in those times, and I had a feeling the same went for Parker, too.

  “Fuck,” I said scrubbing my hands over my face.

  “Yes, please,” Cleo grinned.

  I flipped him the bird and went to the holding cells.

  “Anyone let the geezers out yet?” I asked as I walked towards the cell.

  I walked up on the two men playing cards.

  “Got any 7’s?” My stepfather asked Silas.

  “Go fish,” Silas replied.

  What. The. Fuck.

  ***

  I walked into the room, heart in my throat.

  The room was dark, except for the green lights of the monitors.

  A weird rhythmic thump-thump had my eyes zeroing in on the monitor to the side of the bed before they focused back on the sleeping figure in the bed.

  Channing was asleep on her back.

  Her hand, the one not connected to an IV, was thrown up above her head.

  Her hair was a mess, scattered this way and that around her head.

  The gown she was wearing did nothing but swamp her figure, and my heart constricted once more to see her small body dwarfed in the oversized hospital bed.

  “They gave her some sleeping meds. She was freaking out when she couldn’t find you. It was either sleep, or they’d have had to cuff her to the bed. I chose sleep,” my mother’s tear filled voice said from beside me.

  “Is she okay?” I choked.

  My mom was sitting in the very corner. Her phone lighting up her face with what appeared to be a book on the screen.

  “Yes, baby. She’s okay. They kept her overnight because her blood pressure skyrocketed. They weren’t sure what it was from, but they wanted to keep her just in case they needed to do something about it. That’s not good for the baby,” she said softly. “Her arm’s going to be sore for a very long time. That man stepped on the back of her arm, pinning it down to the ground with her forearm caught in between his boot and the floor,” she shook her head as if to clear the awful image from her brain. “I shot him.”

  I blinked.

  I hadn’t heard that part, but then again, I’d been busy giving a statement to not only the local police, but also the state police, the Sherriff’s department, and the FBI.

  I’d been detained because of my reluctance to talk with anyone until I saw Channing. However, that hadn’t worked out so well in my favor.

  They’d tried to pin an obstruction of justice charge on me, but Silas and my stepfather had talked the stuck up suit out of it on account of I was ‘distraught’ over the possible harm to my girlfriend.

  The two old men had come together as if they were best buddies as they ran the investigation like two people who hadn’t been doing their best to undermine each other only a few hours before.

  I placed a soft kiss on Channing’s forehead before walking over to my mom and crouching down in front of her. “Are you okay?”

  She placed her cool palm on the side of my head, rubbing her thumb across the scruff covering my jaw.

  “You scared the living crud out of us today. Don’t do that to me anymore. I don’t think my heart can take another one,” she whimpered.

  Something inside of me broke free. “I won’t, mom. I’ve got Channing to keep me in line now. I’m gonna ask her to marry me soon.”

  My mom snickered. “She told me today she wasn’t marrying you until this baby was born, no matter how much you cried.”

  I looked over at the woman currently the topic of our discussion. “I’m sure I can convince her.”

  Chapter 20

  The only reason I’d kick you out of bed was if you wanted to be fucked on the floor.

  -Loki and his thoughts about mood swings

  Loki

  One month later

  I stopped beside Channing’s car and set the stand down. Swinging my leg over, I saw the ‘FOR RENT’ sign in the front of my yard and grinned.

  I grabbed the box out of my saddlebags and started walking towards Channing’s front door.

  Cabe was kicking me out, but that was okay. I’d purchased a home, signing on the dotted line only this morning.

  Now all I had to do was move my shit into it, and then move Channing’s shit into it. Then we’d have a home.

  That was if she didn’t freak out.

  Stopping beside the front door, I pulled my keys out, dropping the velvet box, I’d also gotten today, in the dirt.

  Stooping down, I picked it up, flicked the top open, and stared.

  “She’s going to say no,” I muttered to myself as I slipped the ring back into my pocket, and tucked the garment box underneath my arm.

  Then I opened the door to the Channing’s house.

  “Channing?” I called as I closed the door behind me.

  I stepped out of my boots, and then kicked them into the corner under the coffee table.

  Walking through the living room, I checked the kitchen but found no sign of her there, either.

  “Chan?” I called again.

  I found her in the bedroom cuddled up to Lucy.

  Looking at the clock to double check that I had enough time, I slipped my shirt off over my head, shucked my jeans, and crawled in behind her.

  Lucy moved to the floor, as was h
is usual since I wasn’t a big fan of sleeping with dogs.

  Channing moved, pressing her back closer to my front, before falling back asleep again.

  My hand went from her chest to her belly, where I could feel our baby moving away inside of her.

  How Channing slept like that, I don’t know, but I commended her for it.

  The kid was going to be hell on wheels when he finally got here.

  I fell asleep to the rhythmic movement of our child moving against my hand, and didn’t wake up again until two hours later, sans Channing.

  Stretching my arms above my head, a small groan escaped me as I worked the tiredness from my body and stood up.

  I didn’t bother with pants, instead walking straight out to the kitchen to find Channing eating a bowl of cereal in her navy blue scrubs that she was wearing to work for the night.

  “Hey,” I said just before leaning down and giving her a kiss.

  She turned her head at the last moment, so my kiss was deflected from her lips and landed on her jaw instead.

  I looked at her warily. “What?”

  “You weren’t going to tell me?” her voice quivered with unshed tears.

  I looked at her warily.

  Channing cried at the drop of a hat lately.

  She cried when she dropped an onion. She cried when she gained a pound. She cried when I brought the baby a shirt.

  If it was a day that ended in y, she cried about it.

  “Tell you what?” I asked.

  Had she found my presents?

  “That you were moving out of your place,” she blubbered.

  “Fuck,” I sighed and pulled her into my chest. “I wasn’t moving into my new place without you, silly girl.”

  I heard her mouth slurp, and looked down at her just as she slipped another spoonful of Lucky Charms into her mouth before chewing loudly.

  I rolled my eyes. The woman was a nut, what could I say? Apparently, I went for the crazy chicks.

  “I have something for you,” I said carefully.

  She leaned back, taking another bite of cereal before asking, “What?”

  “Come,” I instructed as I took her hand and led her into the bedroom where my discarded pants and the box were.