Sawyer (Great Wolves Motorcycle Club, #5)

by Jayne Blue

  It was pink and a Victorian like many of the homes in the neighborhood. The house had a small board of directors, a tiny staff, and rooms for twelve women and or women and their kids.

  The current administrator, Doris Williams, was a saint in my opinion. A straight talking saint, with a huge heart and even bigger bosom, which she frequently used to envelope people in giant hugs. She kept the place going no matter what the donation situation was. No matter who came through the doors.

  She greeted me with one of those signature hugs and a kind squeeze of the shoulder for Alexis. She understood about personal space when it came to what Alexis and others like her might have experienced. Her body was not her own. Part of the rehabilitation was to help her establish parameters that felt right to her. Doris Williams got that all down but the little contact was there, to comfort, to connect. Even just a little bit.

  “I’m giving her the room at the end of the hall. My only vacancy right now. We have dinner at 6 p.m. You help cook and clean up. Otherwise, we are going to watch TV. After dinner in the common room and you’re welcome to join us.”

  “What are you watching,” Alexis asked.

  “Survivor. I love that show,” Doris explained.

  “Oh, uh.”

  “Think about it. Jeff Probst is not to be missed.”

  “I’ll take her up.” I led Alexis away from Doris, who could not honestly understand why someone would not want to watch Jeff Probst at any opportunity.

  We walked the creaking staircase and it always amazed me that this huge neighborhood of Victorian houses once was home to the rich founding fathers of Grand City. I imagined what it must have been like here in the early 1900s.

  Now this house was a haven for women running from abusive husbands and kids like Alexis. The kids here, if they were not little ones with their mothers, were old enough to handle their basic needs and not require a babysitter but really, they were so far from able to care for themselves in this world that it was heartbreaking. That tough exterior they all had belied a soft and vulnerable child that could still be hurt to the bone.

  Alexis would be able to stay here two to three weeks, tops and then we would need to figure something out. It was the constant struggle, finding something permanent for a kid that had no parents.

  I helped her settle into the 10x10 room. She had a small dresser and a bed with a little night table. The table had a lamp.

  “Do you think you’ll watch TV tonight?”

  “Jeff Probst is one-hundred years old.”

  “Yeah but the man can rock a camp shirt,” no response from Alexis on that one.

  “What are you thinking then?”

  “My book, the book you bought me. It will be nice to read it in peace.”

  “Sounds pretty good to me.”

  “Are you being nice to me because you want me to talk?”

  “Want you to talk?”

  “About what happened.”

  “I do want you to tell me all you can. But I do not want to push you. I want you to be safe. That’s number one.”

  “A lot of it's blurry before I figured out how to avoid the drugs.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “And I’m really tired.”

  “Of course, you are. You have been through something awful. I want you to get stronger. Be healthier.”

  “I want to help. I do think, well when I can, that I can talk to you. I’m not sure right now, though.”

  “Have a good dinner with Mrs. Williams and the ladies here. Read, sleep, no hurry.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I’m being nice to you because you’re a smart, good, strong, and tough kid who didn’t deserve to what happened to her.”

  “If you visit tomorrow. Maybe then...”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. For sure.”

  “Thank you, Miss Geary.”

  “Bess remember.”

  “Thank you, Bess.”

  I left a scared and traumatized girl in that room. But it was a safe room. A room where no one would hurt her. Where she could read.

  I knew she had stories locked in her mind. I believed she could tell me things that could help other girls.

  She had to trust me first. And then we would see.

  I had to get control of my heart. First Sawyer and now Alexis. Everywhere I turned deeper connections were stirring me up, opening my heart, and threatening to break it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sawyer

  It was a six-hour time difference but I got through to France and it was a surprisingly clear connection.

  Mace Alois was another fighter from the Great Wolves Gym and he was on extended holiday recuperating from a terrible injury he had gotten in his last fight.

  “How’s the arm?” I asked.

  “Better. Out of the hard cast. Mon Dieu, I’m very glad of it.”

  “Good. Good.” We caught up for a time and then I got to the point.

  “I need to talk to Raleigh if she’s up to it.” Mace had fallen in love with a girl named Raleigh Gibson. She was a computer genius and the very first person we had saved from the Russian assholes that began to invade Grand City.

  Two of the leaders of the Bratva who were now in jail had kidnapped her. I had hoped getting rid of the head of the beast would help kill the Bratva, but smaller tendrils were crawling all over town now.

  Raleigh recently had major surgery too and the two lovebirds were resting and recovering in Mace’s native France.

  They had achieved a happily ever after, just like Craddock and Cassidy, with a little assist from yours truly, and it did my heart good.

  I needed Raleigh’s expertise. She was a computer hacker with a vendetta against the Russians. Exactly what I needed.

  “How’s my girl?”

  “I’m so good. I’m so glad to hear your voice Mace.”

  “Back atcha. Mace treating you well?”

  “Of course.”

  “He knows I’ll kick his ass if he doesn’t.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So I need your help.”

  “You saved my life a ridiculous amount of times. All you need to do is ask and I am there. Do I need to get on a plane today?”

  “Calm down. No way. I want you and Mace to be in France until you’re good and ready to do whatever you want to do. What I need are your computer skills.”

  “Russians?”

  “Yep. We think they’re running a human trafficking operation either out of Grand City or at the very least through it.”

  “It’s what you suspected before.”

  “Yep, but worse than I thought.”

  “So are these Russians connected to the Russians that kidnapped me?”

  “Mostly I think these Russians followed bread crumbs to our sleepy little town. Now they are trying to make themselves at home. I need passport info, property transfers of the last two months, and maybe hotel ownerships. Maybe even trucking company info? You know where they kept you, the storage place. Yeah well, we burned that down so they might have replaced it.”

  “Nice! Thank you for that. You are looking for ways to move people, that’s what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, what assets in my town are they using to do this?”

  “I wish I could be there. I especially wish I would have seen your bonfire.”

  “A much better view where you are.”

  “True. But I do miss you and my friends in Grand City.”

  “Miss you too and that French fighter of yours. He keeps those cocky bastards at GWG on their toes.”

  “So true. I’ll start digging. I’ll let you know if I turn anything up you can use.”

  “Thank you. And don’t eat too much fancy cheese. You’ll never want to come home to Grand City.”

  “Good advice. Thank you.”

  “No thank you. Take care of yourself kiddo.”

  “You too Sawyer. Be careful. Be really careful.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Tell France I said Bon Jour.�
��

  Raleigh Gibson had a look at the way the Russians ran their operations. She could hack her way into anything. I was sure of it.

  I needed to know how they were transported and where the abuse of these girls was taking place. Then my Great Wolves would rip them out of our town one by one.

  When I got back to the M.C., there was an unexpected development on putting a face to the Bratva.

  Larry caught me as I walked up to the club.

  “You look serious.”

  “We caught us a Russian. Out back in the garage.” Larry and I hadn’t done much out back. Because this was where violence was done back in the day. Members were punished, snitches were muscled to talk, and I am sure worse happened out there.

  We had been less violent in the last year. We were more in open than the M.C. had ever been. That was about to change.

  “What’s the story?” I asked before we walked into the side door of the unattached garage behind the club.

  “One of our guys was patrolling the jewelry shop area, the dry cleaners, you know after we said we’d step it up?”

  “Go on.”

  “Anyway, he sees this guy driving by three times. Real slow. He calls it in and we corner him.”

  “That his car back there?”

  “Yep, bricks, spray paint, cable ties, and various vials and syringes.”

  “Great.”

  I knocked on the garage door and Stone let me in. In the center of the garage, our Russian was tied to a folding chair. A bruise was rising on his cheekbone and a tiny bit of blood was trickling down from a cut on his eye but it was not too bad. Yet.

  Hagen was circling around back and Steel stood in front of him with fists balled up.

  Hagen looked at me and pointed to Steel to do the same.

  “He’s looking a little too good. But one second. Square him up.” Hagen got out of the way and I made sure all that you could see behind his head was a crappy blank wall. I checked that there were no distinguishing marks to pinpoint where he was.

  I snapped a picture and then nodded to Steel.

  “Got it.” Steel uncorked a nice hit to the other jaw. That knocked the Russian over chair and all.

  I walked up and gave him a kick to the ribs.

  “Let’s get him upright. I have a few questions.”

  Steel put the chair up as if it was a toy. Despite the fact, the Russian was not small.

  “Do you speak English?”

  The Russian spit in my direction.

  “No?”

  “Get Victor in here.”

  I had a Russian of my own, took him in after he had decided he did not want to hurt innocent people. I sure hope Victor could hurt this guy. Based on what we found in the car he deserved a little pain. Maybe a lot.

  It would be a good test for Victor who was still a probie in this club. Victor, a giant by any standard, walked in. I had been making him drive trucks because I had not found a Harley big enough for him. He looked at me for instructions.

  “Victor, ask him what he was doing.”

  Victor spoke in Russian and the man answered.

  “He says to fuck off,” Victor said, in a matter of fact way that if I were not about to dismantle this Russian, would have made me laugh.

  “Victor, tell him we are going to hurt him, a lot unless we get some information.”

  Victor shared the message and the Russian replied.

  “He said his boss is Dimitri and Dimitri will kill the whole club.”

  “Ah, let him know I’ve put a few Russians in jail, Artem and Oleg. Ring any bells?”

  I said the names straight to him and he reacted. The asshole may be able to understand more than he was letting on.

  “Do you know the name, Dimitri?” I asked Victor. Victor was a low-level thug in his day. I did not expect he knew too much but maybe enough to help now that we had a name.

  “Dimitri Vogel, I have heard the name. He is a bad man. Worse than the ones I worked for but I only know his name. I have never seen him.”

  “Here’s what I want,” I addressed Steel, Victor, and Hagen.

  “I need to know the name of the place they’re setting up the meets between the girls like Alexis that we found and the scum who buy the service.”

  They all nodded.

  “Victor will translate,” and I got really close in with the Russian. I grabbed his pinky finger and pushed it. He whimpered as I increased the pressure until I heard a sickening snap. I stopped as he turned his head to the side and vomited.

  If I was going to ask the guys to get dirty and violent, I was not about to keep my hands clean. That was a real bitch move, one broken finger did not a devil make, I hoped.

  “Let's see, that was one out of twenty digits. Twenty-one if I unleash this guy on you.” I pointed Steel.

  “You three, get the information. Let me know what it’s done.”

  Hagen came around to the side and asked in a low tone so no one could hear, “Do you want us to finish him?”

  “No, we’re sending a message. Let’s be sure Dimitri gets that message.”

  “It’s only going to take one, maybe two more fingers,” Hagen calculated.

  “Remember what we found in that storage lock up and in his car. This asshole preys on young girls. Make sure he can’t do that for a good long time.”

  “Got it.”

  “And keep an eye on Victor. This is a good test of his stomach. I’ll be in my office.”

  I walked out. I did not like violence, torture, and blood. But if I had to use it to clean these evil bastards out of Grand City, I would do it.

  Again and again.

  Bess, Raleigh, Cassidy, none of the people who knew me these days knew this side of me. It would scare them off.

  It as a remnant of our old days in the M.C. but if bloodshed was needed to stop trafficking in this town so be it.

  If bloodshed was needed to keep the club and my woman safe. Blood it would be. Or bone.

  Bess

  It was another late night. I was late picking up Henry from his sitter but he was happy to see me instead of pissed that I was late. I thanked God that the kid had a sweet disposition instead of his dad’s.

  As we drove, we talked about his day.

  “I was it, which I hate being it, but then I got McKayla.”

  “Is she fast?”

  “She is but you know you got me these new tennis shoes and I can go much faster so I tagged her.”

  “Fun. It was a good you guys got to go outside for recess.”

  “More places to run, yep.”

  We drove and talked but then a bright set of headlights in my rearview had me squinting. I flipped the mirror up so they were not so distracting.

  “Hey maybe get off my tail?” I said to the driver behind me.

  “Yeah.” Henry took my lead. I was glad I didn’t hurl a good cuss word at the other driver. I had learned that lesson when Henry was three and yelled, move your ass, to a car that was in front of me and going slow.

  I had curbed my domestic swearing significantly since that little scene.

  Still the car behind me was riding my bumper.

  I didn’t think much of it until I had made several turns and the car still tailed me. I was not sure what to do. Keep going home? Drive to the police? Ignore it? Was I paranoid all of a sudden since the brick slammed through my window the other night?

  I lifted up my cell and dialed. It was not really a conscious decision. It was who I reached for out of instinct. I surprised myself who I wanted in a moment of fear.

  Sawyer.

  He answered after one ring.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  “Can you meet me at my house?”

  “Sure, I’m on my bike right now, five minutes.”

  “Okay, can you hurry?”

  “What is it? What’s going on?” His voice was tense. I had alarmed him I was sure.

  I struggled with the words. I didn’t want to freak Henry out. Every turn I made convin
ced me that the car behind me was deliberately following me.

  I kept my tone light and a smile on my face to try to disguise my growing concern from my backseat passenger. Henry was playing a game on the iPad and I didn’t want to let on if this was nothing.

  “So Henry and I are driving and there’s a vehicle tailgating me. Really close.”

  “Where are you right now?”

  “Reynolds Road, heading from Henry’s babysitter to my house. I’m about ten miles from home.”

  “Cross street.”

  “Uh, just past South.”

  “Hold your speed.” I had no idea what Sawyer was after.

  “It’s probably nothing I just wondered if when I pull into my driveway, it might be a good idea to have...”

  “It is. And you should have told me when you left the office today.”

  “That’s ridic...” Sawyer cut me off.

  “No argument. Do what I tell you. Your doors locked?”

  I checked, “Yes.”

  “I assume you have the little dude strapped in tight.”

  “Of course.”

  “Then just obey all traffic laws and keep going.”

  “Yep, and you’ll be there when I get home?”

  “I’ll always be there. I’m going to hang up for a second. Put both hands on the wheel. And keep your speed even.”

  “Okay.” I did as I was told and started to sweat a little. A few seconds later, a Harley pulled up next to me. It was not Sawyer’s bike, but the helmeted rider nodded, indicating that I should follow him. I noticed the familiar Great Wolves cut, as they called it, I called it a patch. That cut, to my surprise, calmed me, so I followed.

  I looked in my rearview and two more bikes pulled next to the car that was tailing me.

  Another bike pulled in next to the one I was following.

  The bikers that were parallel to the car tailing me surged forward and so, I did the same. They somehow got between my car and the car on my ass.

  “Wow!” Henry had looked up from his game. Harleys were loud it was hard to ignore.

  I looked around. There were now half-a-dozen bikers forming some sort of buffer around us.

  “It’s like a parade!” Henry said.