by Naomi West
It was the gang of bikers that she’d seen Owen fight before—about five in total. She recognized the man that Owen had nearly beat within an inch of his life, his face still marred with scrapes and cuts.
“There’s the man we’re looking for!” shouted the man, stepping off of his bike and propping up the kickstand.
“What the fuck do you want, Charlie?” asked Owen. “Didn’t I send you a clear enough fuckin’ message before?”
A sinister smile formed on the man’s face.
“Maybe, but we’re not here about territory shit like that.”
“Then what the fuck you doing at my home this goddamn early? And how the fuck did you find out where I live?”
“We got a little help—help with deep pockets,” said Charlie. “And the reason we’re here is for that sweet little piece of ass you’ve got hidden away in there.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” said Charlie. “You got a girl in there and we’re here for her. And maybe if you send her out without any fucking issues, then we might let you go without beating the living shit out of you, as much as you might deserve it.”
Carey couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She knew that if someone had sent these bikers here for her, there could only be one person who was responsible—Brady.
She felt like she had to do something to stop all of this. After all, they were just here for her, and there was no way that she was going to let Owen suffer on her behalf.
Before she could do anything, however, Owen rushed to Charlie, getting right in his face.
“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” he said. “Coming to my goddamn home and making demands of me.”
Charlie raised his eyes in shock.
“This is really how you’re going to play this?” he asked. “You’re going to go up against five fucking men instead of just doing what we ask?”
“There’s not a goddamn way that I’m gonna let you take her. I don’t give a shit how much money you’re getting paid; you want her, you’re gonna have to go through me.”
Carey was frozen with fear in place. As much as she wanted to move, to run outside and give herself up to stop all of this, she just couldn’t. Her body had locked up, and all she could do was watch in horror.
“More than happy to oblige you, asshole.”
With that, two of the other bikers dismounted their rides and grabbed Owen by the arms. Owen struggled against their grasp, but to no avail. Once he was secure, Charlie began to pace back and forth in front of him, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Nice of you to say exactly what I was hoping you would,” said Charlie. “I had instructions to beat the shit out of you either way, but I’m glad you’re making it easy for me.”
With that, Charlie pulled back a fist and drove it hard into Owen’s stomach. A dull thud sounded out, and the air rushed out of Owen’s lungs. But he stayed on his feet.
“You wouldn’t believe how much I’m getting paid for this shit,” said Charlie. “When I got called up in the middle of the night to meet up with some rich asshole who’s got you in his sights, telling me that all I had to do was beat the shit out of you and steal back some girl, I was half-convinced that it was some kind of wonderful fuckin’ dream. But nope—sometimes you do really get what you want.”
He drove another hard punch into Owen’s gut, the men still holding him in place.
“But you can put an end to this,” said Charlie. “Give us the girl, give up the territory we want, and this can all end—easy as that. If not, then the Fiends are gonna be lookin’ for a new president.”
Another punch, this time to Owen’s face. Carey watched in horror as blood poured from Owen’s nose as he struggled to stay on his feet.
Finally, Carey broke free from her frozen trance. She pulled the front door of Owen’s apartment open and ran down the stairs.
“Wait!” she shouted. “Don’t hurt him!”
Without thinking, she positioned herself between Owen and Charlie, shielding his body with hers.
“Carey …” said Owen, his words weak. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You think I’m going to let you take a beating like this, then you’re out of your mind,” she said, her eyes on Owen.
“Just … get out of here,” said Owen, struggling to speak. “While you can.”
“There she is!” said Charlie, a wicked smile on his face. “Now, get the fuck out of here while we finish our business with this asshole, unless you want to get hurt.”
Before any of them could say or do anything else, however, a shout sounded from the distance.
“Carey! Get the fuck out of there!”
Carey turned towards the direction of the yell, her eyes landing on a man running towards them, his arms flailing as he approached.
It was Brady.
“Carey! Get out of the way!”
“Brady!” she shouted. “It was you!”
Brady cut the distance between him and the rest of the group.
“Carey!” he said breathlessly. “Just stay out of it! They want Owen and that’s it. Then you can come back with me!”
“Brady!” Carey shouted. “You’re the one who did this!”
“That’s right,” he said. “When you ran off with this prick last night, I did what I needed to do to get you back. Didn’t take much poking around to find someone who was interested in doing me a little favor if they could fuck up your biker boyfriend in the process.”
“You said you weren’t going to get involved, you dumb motherfucker,” said Charlie, turning a heated gaze to Brady. “Now get the fuck back to your fancy-ass car and let us do our work.”
“You can’t hurt her, though,” said Brady. “That was part of the arrangement. Do whatever you want with him, I don’t give a damn, but she stays out of it.”
Charlie turned towards Brady, contempt written all over his face.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, asshole, we’re the ones running the show. We got paid, and now you can sit on your ass and let us earn our money. We’re gonna teach this prick a thing or two, and if your girl gets in the way, that’s her own damn fault.”
“Carey,” said Owen. “Just go. Go with Brady.”
“No way,” she said, keeping her body positioned between him and Charlie.
“Listen, asshole!” said Brady. “If you—”
Before another word could leave his mouth, however, Owen took advantage of the chaos. Breaking free from the grips of the men who held him, he swung a hard right hook at the man on his right, bringing him down to his knees. Then, with an equally quick and powerful blow, he knocked out the man on his left. Then, he rushed to the pair of men watching from their bikes and, with a series of punches to their guts and faces, brought them to the ground.
Then, he turned his attention back to Charlie and Brady.
In the distance, Carey heard the sound of approaching sirens. Someone had called the police, and the cops were getting closer by the second.
“God fucking damn it!” shouted Charlie. “You stupid asshole!”
Owen strode past Charlie, coming face-to-face with Brady. He grabbed Brady by the collar, pulling him right to his face.
“Now, wait,” said Brady. “Let’s sort this out like adults. First, we can—”
A hard jab to the nose cut him off. Blood poured from Brady’s face as Owen dropped him to the ground. Just around the corner, a pair of police cars, their sirens wailing, pulled up to the apartment and came to a squealing halt. The cops exploded out of their cars, guns drawn.
“Everyone’s goddamn hands where I can see them!” one of the cops shouted.
Carey turned to Owen. She watched as he raised his hands and gave her a slight nod, letting her know that this was what she needed to do.
All around them, the men raised their hands as the police swarmed in. Over the course of seconds that passed in a flash, Carey was handcuffed and shoved into the back of one of the cruisers. She spotted Owen in one of the
others, and they locked eyes as the cars drove off.
She had no idea what was going to come next.
Chapter Sixteen
Carey
After what seemed like an eternity alone in her holding cell, Carey was brought to a small, windowless room, the only furniture a simple table and two folding chairs, one on each side. The officer who led her there instructed her to take one of the chairs, and as she sat, she saw that there was a large pane of glass on the opposite wall. She immediately recognized it as a one-way mirror.
She sat alone for a time, wondering just what was about to happen. Before she could think for too long about the matter, however, the door opened and a middle-aged detective with thinning hair, dressed in a sable-colored suit, his badge dangling from his pants pocket, entered. Taking a position on the other side of the table, he put his hands on his hips and looked down at her.
“Carey Oakley,” he said. “Never thought I’d see a girl like you in a place like this.”
“Who … are you?” she asked. “And how do you know me?”
“My name’s Detective Salt. And you don’t know me, but you know my daughter, Ellen.”
Carey scoured her mind and quickly put a face to a name. Ellen Salt was a girl in her class at the local private high school that they’d both graduated from. Carey’s stomach sank when she realized that knowledge of what she’d been through would likely be spreading through the local community like wildfire.
“Oh,” said Carey. “Nice to meet you.”
Detective Salt took a seat across from her.
“Something to drink?” he asked. “We got water, coffee, uh, soda.”
“I just want to know what I’m doing here,” said Carey. “And I want to know where Owen is.”
“Did you bump your head on the way into the squad car or something?” asked Salt. “You’re here because you got in the middle of a damn fight between two bikers gangs. You’re lucky you’re not dead.”
“Is Owen okay?”
“He’s … in a coma,” said Salt. “Those bikers did a number on him. But right now I’m here to talk about you.”
“He’s in a what?” Carey asked, her tone one of disbelief. “Is he going to be okay?”
“He’s stable for now,” said Salt. “They’re just waiting for him to wake up. So you might as well tell me what I want to hear.”
Carey wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of that little room and run to Owen’s side. But Salt didn’t appear to be looking to accommodate.
“What do you want to know?” she asked.
“I’m here because your parents are worried out of their damn minds. They want to know why a girl like you would be running around with a thug like Owen Flynn. They want to know why Brady was there, and why he got the shit beaten out of him.”
“What did Brady tell you?”
“Wrong place, wrong time,” said Salt. “But it’s clear as day it’s a load of bullshit. So, I’m here to get the straight story.”
“It was all Brady,” said Carey. “He paid the gang to come kidnap me and to do … I don’t know what to Owen.”
“Pretty damn different than what he’s telling us.”
“He’s a lying piece of shit.”
Salt’s eyebrows raised. “Clear you’ve got opinions on the man.”
“More than a few.”
Carey looked around the room, and it occurred to her that she wasn’t in handcuffs.
“Wait, am I under arrest or something?”
“You’re not, but we wanted to ask you some questions. After all, this isn’t the kind of situation that we find girls like you getting into every day.”
“What’s going to happen to Owen?” she asked. “When he wakes up?”
“Well, that depends on if what you said about Brady is true or not. Your boy Flynn has a clean record, believe it or not—no warrants, no nothing. If it turns out that he got jumped by some gang who’d been paid off, then there’s nothing we can charge him with.”
“Then you have to let me see him,” said Carey. “And I’ll do anything you need to make sure that he doesn’t get charged.”
“Then tell me everything.”
Carey spent the next hour recounting her relationship with Owen. She told them how they met, how they’d fallen in love, and how she’d found out that she was carrying his baby. Everything that led up to the current moment she relayed, only glossing over the beating that Owen had given to Charlie weeks ago.
Salt took careful notes throughout, and when Carey was done, he let her go. To her surprise, her parents had been watching the entire proceedings from the other side of the one-way mirror. Overjoyed to have her back, she realized that they’d quickly changed their opinion of Brady after hearing Carey’s side of the story. And now that they knew she was pregnant, all they cared about was making sure she was safe and cared for until the baby arrived.
“And what about Owen?” asked Carey as the three of them left the police station.
“Not the man I would’ve chosen for you,” said her father. “But if he’s the man you love and the father of your child, then we’re going to have to figure something out.”
“Maybe give him something at the company, Mark,” said Joanne. “Something to get him out of that lifestyle.”
Mark considered the matter. “I’ll have to meet the man, but that’s something I can keep I mind. Let him know, Carey.”
“I will,” she said, more than anything eager to see Owen.
The drive to the hospital was the longest she’d endured in her life. Soon, however, they arrived out front. Carey exploded out of the car and hurried through the hospital, asking anyone who could help just where Owen was. She was directed to a small, sunny room on the fourth floor, and there she found Owen resting, a peaceful expression on his face.
A small chair was next to the bed. Carey took a seat, placed her hand on Owen’s, and waited.
***
“Rise and shine, kid.”
Owen’s voice brought Carey back in consciousness. She looked around, almost shocked to see that she was still in the hospital room. The room was quiet and calm, and great beams of sunlight shone in through the windows that overlooked the park next the hospital.
Carey turned her attention to Owen and gasped at what she saw. For the first time in two days, his eyes were open. His blue eyes were brilliant in the sunlight, and a small, cocky smile was on his face.
“You’re awake!” Carey shouted, jumping out of her chair and wrapping her arms around him.
“Whoa, whoa,” he said, grimacing a bit as she hugged him tightly. “Careful, now.”
Carey looked Owen up and down as though there was a chance that he might not be real.
“I can’t believe you’re up,” she said, kissing him all over his face. “I was worried …”
“Don’t,” he said, his voice stern. “Unless this is a dream or something, I’m fine.”
He looked around the room, realizing that he was in a hospital.
“At least, I think I’m fine,” he said. “What the hell happened?”
“What do you remember?”
“I remember Charlie and the gang out front. I remember Brady showing up. I remember giving and taking a few punches and … that’s it. Nothing else.”
“You got arrested,” said Carey.
Owen raised his hands to his face, noticing that he wasn’t in cuffs.
“Minimum security, I take it?” he asked.
“It’s … I’ll explain in a second. Let me get the nurse.”
Carey rushed into the hallway and flagged down Nurse Holiday, the reed-thin, middle-aged attending nurse who’d been taking care of Owen over the last couple of days. She hurried into the room and made an appraisal.
“Mr. Flynn,” she said. “Back among the living.”
“I think so,” he said. “But what’s the damage?”
“You lucked out,” she said, her sharp features fixed in a serious expression. “Just a few bruised ri
bs, some flesh wounds here and there, and a minor concussion. Whoever did this to you winged you in just the right way to put you out cold for a few days without doing any major damage. You should consider yourself lucky.”
“I suppose I should,” he said, shifting his weight to get out of bed.
“Hold on there, tough guy,” said Nurse Holiday. “We’ve still got to run some tests and keep you here for observation for at least the next few hours. So don’t get any big ideas about going anywhere. I’m going to get the doctor, so go ahead and pass the time with your little bedside angel here.”
