Draven wanted so very much to do that right now. Or maybe punch the asshole in the face a few times before shooting the fucker.
“I hate you,” he whispered, putting as much malice in his voice as he possibly could.
“I know,” Cade said, almost sadly. “But whatever you think of me, push it aside. There have been sixteen women abducted. God knows how many more. Whoever is behind this has to be stopped, John.”
Draven was of two minds. One wanted to spit in the fucker’s face. The other wanted to help Agent Vanaker bring down the vermin who were hurting women, especially in his territory.
“Why me?”
“Opportunity. You’re going to bring me back as a new member for the club.”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“You’re the only one who knows who I am. I need to go undercover and lay low while I gather Intel. Being with the Wolves is a perfect alibi. I have my suspicions but I need to get closer.”
Draven shook his head. “You can’t possibly pull off being a prospect.”
“No,” Cade said dryly. “I’m going in as a nomad.”
“You won’t be able to sit in on church.”
“And that’s why I’ll have you,” Cade said. “You will be my ears to the inner workings of the club.”
“The Wolves aren’t into human trafficking.”
“I agree. I don’t think they are. But until I find out who is, everyone’s a suspect. I can’t trust anyone.”
“I don’t trust you,” Draven stated.
“Fine. But we’re still going to be the best of buds. Just you wait and see.”
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Red Wolves Motorcycle Club: Along Came Merrie
Beth D. Carter
Excerpt
Chapter One
Merrie eased up on the gas when she finally accepted the truth. She was lost. Miles from nowhere, she looked down at her gas tank light flickering dangerously low. She dug around on the passenger seat until she found her phone then illuminated it to check her bars.
Of course. Dead.
Story of her life—dead end jobs, dead end future. She’d been taking care of herself since before she should’ve and the only job she’d been able to get at age fifteen was working on a dairy farm. It was nice but it didn’t pay all that much, and she’d gotten tired of her ass being grabbed each time she came by with the coffee carafe. The idea of moving to Cheyenne had sounded good at the time but now—lost in the middle of Wyoming—somehow it didn’t seem all that smart. Why was it that none of the roads had marker signs?
She’d gotten turned around at that last pit stop—that’s what had happened. Too many roads branched out for the truckers and she’d become confused about which road she’d been on. She was always doing stupid things like that. How hard was it to follow a road?
Apparently, very hard.
It only added to the melancholy lingering in her soul. She had wanted to start over, begin a new chapter in her life, so she’d donated most of her stuff to charity, keeping only the items that were important. It had depressed the hell out of her when she’d discovered all her worldly possessions had fitted in her trunk. It wasn’t as if she’d had a happy childhood full of memorabilia and crap. Hell, she’d barely graduated high school.
A glow in the distant sky lifted her spirits. A glow meant people, civilization. Hopefully it also meant a gas station or maybe someone who had information on how far the next one was—and food would be a plus. She hadn’t eaten since the truck stop a few hours ago.
She pressed harder on the gas pedal. The quicker she reached the lights, the quicker she’d get back on the right track. Merrie kept her fingers crossed that she wasn’t too far from her destination. Who knew driving could be so exhausting?
Her focus stayed on the lights and, as she grew closer, the shape of a large barn converted into a bar drew closer. Dozens of motorcycles surrounded it, big silver and black monstrosities that pushed a slither of unease down her spine. The only bikers she’d really heard of were the made up ones on television and they were dangerous bad asses. Plus, being a woman had her naturally distrustful of bars. There were too many horror stories where a girl went into a bar never to be seen again, and this one held bikers. She slowed upon noticing an old public telephone booth toward the back of the building. Never mind that it belonged in a museum—relief poured through her. She wouldn’t have to go inside to ask for directions. She could simply call the police to help her.
Merrie flicked off her headlights as she pulled into the parking lot then headed around back near the telephone booth. She didn’t see anyone, so she turned off her car and opened the door. Getting out, she looked around and took a step toward the call box when she heard a man laugh. She swung around. In the shadows of the building, two men talked and shook hands. They wore leather vests with many patches on them but one of the men had a band of red running along the bottom of his while the other didn’t. The second man faced her, the patch on his vest white with a red devil and two Ds on it.
Suddenly, the bearded man who faced her turned his head and looked directly at her. He tapped the other guy on the shoulder and he spun on his heel too. The second biker, his goatee cut close to his chin, glared at her like she was something disgusting on the bottom of his shoe. Seriously creeped out, Merrie debated if she should get back in her car and just leave. The telephone stood only a few feet away. Without knowing where she was, she had no way to judge how far the next gas stop would be. Did she really want to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere? Mind made up, she pushed her misgivings away as she hurried over to the phone.
She picked up the receiver, heard a dial tone and breathed a sigh of relief. It worked! She dug in her jeans pocket for some coins and was just about to put them into the phone, when a hand twisted in her hair and pulled sharply. Needle-like pain pricked her scalp and Merrie raised her hands instinctively, trying to alleviate the throb. The phone receiver fell to dangle at the bottom of the phone box.
“Ouch!”
The man holding her hair jerked her away from the phone booth. He twisted his hand, bringing her head up so she stared into his face. Tears flooded her eyes.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“Let go of me!” she yelled, trying to free herself. This wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with this type of torment. Her mother had liked to hurt her whenever she was in her drunken rages.
The biker backhanded her. White-hot heat exploded in her cheek as the force of the hit spun her around. Dirt filled her mouth as she landed hard on her front and tears filled her eyes when her nerve endings processed the pain. Fear replaced every single coherent thought and instinct in Merrie’s mind. She pushed herself up and glanced at the man, holding her hands out in a pleading gesture for him to leave her alone.
“I asked who you are,” he said coldly. “I didn’t ask for a fucking attitude.”
“M-my name is M-Merrie,” she whimpered, spitting out dirt and blood. Her teeth had cut the inside of her mouth. “P-please don’t hurt me.”
“Merrie. Well, Merrie, who were you calling?”
“N-no one,” she said.
He grabbed her arm and yanked her up to stand in front of him. He bent her arm behind her until she whimpered and tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight.
“Now why don’t I believe you?” He shook her. “Were you calling the club? Are you someone’s old lady? Or just a fucking spy?”
“I don’t know any club. Please let me go!”
“Who were you calling?” he demanded again. This time he brought his hand back in a fist.
“The police!” she cried, cringing.
He leered in her face. The stale stench of cigarettes and the sour fermentation of beer on his breath activated her gag reflex. But she swallowed down the bile. “I’ve got the police in my back pocket, you stupid bitch. They can’t help you.”
“I’m lost,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “I swear
. I was just calling them because I’m lost!”
“Well, shit,” someone else said.
Merrie cracked her eyes open. The other man with the gray beard looked at her with a mixture of pity and resolution. Her heart pounded as fear skyrocketed to terror and she knew her life was in jeopardy. Once again, she tugged her arm, trying to break the tight grip on her wrist.
“You fucked up, Axe,” the bearded man said. “And I don’t know if she’d have someone come looking for her.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Axe snarled.
“Make sure no one finds her body.”
“No!” Merrie screamed. “I won’t tell anyone anything. I swear. I-I’ve never been here. I don’t even know where I am. Please don’t hurt me. Please!”
“Shut up,” Axe snarled. He drew back his fist again and smashed it into her face.
Her vision faded and she gave in to the beckoning darkness.
* * * *
Awareness slowly crept back to Merrie. She snapped her eyes open and found herself in the back seat of her car and with her hands tied in front of her. Pain pulsed through the left side of her face but she bit back a sob. Although she didn’t know how long she’d been out of it, she was still alive.
She tried to see who was driving, but could only make out the driver wasn’t Axe. The person had long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and a tattoo of a snake on his arm that wrapped from the wrist up into the sleeve of his white T-shirt. Trying to be as sneaky as possible, she began moving her hands about, testing the bonds tying them together. Whoever had bound her hadn’t done a very effective job, probably because they expected her to stay unconscious. The rope was loose and she wiggled her wrists even more, pulling as hard as she could without alerting the driver to her movements. A stinging burn chaffed the skin but she didn’t care. If she couldn’t get free then she was dead, so she strained and tugged carefully and moments later, she’d freed one hand. A sense of elation jolted through her, pumping up her already high level of adrenaline.
She only had one shot at escaping and she knew it was going to hurt like hell when she fell out of the car. Part of her wanted to stay put and try to reason with the men again, but the common sense part of her said that if she stayed there, she would die. Why they wanted her dead she didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. No one knew where she was and she had no one to rely on either.
By the sound of the car and the way it rolled along, she estimated they were traveling about sixty miles per hour. She couldn’t think about the impact of asphalt against her skin at that speed, because something would most likely break.
It was better than the alternative—death.
In her mind, she ran through the plan. She hooked her foot under the door latch. She’d flip it up, the door would open then she would roll head first out of the car, taking the brunt of the impact to her shoulder.
Merrie took a deep breath and mentally counted, psyching herself up. She could do this. She could do this!
One…two…three…
It happened just as she’d imagined it would. The door flew open and she crunched her tummy as she forced herself upward enough to sail out of the back seat. She dimly heard the driver curse as she experienced the sensation of freefalling. Down she fell, but instead of asphalt tearing her up, she landed on compact ground and tumbled through tall weeds. Momentum accelerated her along the steep hill. She couldn’t stop herself and tried her damnedest to keep her arms tucked against her sides, but it was almost impossible as instinct made her want to use her arms to slow her wild descent, even as gravity propelled her down the embankment. Her right wrist snapped and unimaginable pain forced a scream from her throat. Just as she thought she’d never stop tumbling, she started sliding in the dirt then finally came to a halt as the ground leveled out. She’d reached the bottom.
Merrie lay there crying. She couldn’t seem to move as the planet righted itself and vertigo halted. In so much pain she thought she’d pass out, she cradled her wrist. Shouts snapped her out of her haze and she gingerly sat up, looking at the ridge she’d just tumbled down. The road loomed high and the incline appeared sheer. She couldn’t count on those bikers to simply ride on and let her go. Regardless, Merrie knew they would be coming for her—and soon.
Tears coursed down her cheeks as she managed to get to her feet and look around. She’d landed in a ravine and the moonlight highlighted the forest that started at its mouth, so she darted into the black glen. She had no idea what to do other than to run as far as possible. Pain ravaged every inch of her body and she knew her wrist was broken, but she didn’t feel any other bones poking out from it or anywhere else and for that, she was grateful.
She pushed onward, deeper and deeper into the woods. The only thought in her mind was to keep moving as the need to survive drove her onward. Many times she stumbled but she got right back up, putting one foot in front of the other.
Soon, she didn’t hear any more shouts but she refused to relax. Once daylight hit, her pursuers might be able to track her and if she sat to rest, it was possible she’d never be able to get back up. Of course, she had no idea how they’d track her. Did they have dogs? ATVs? What if they had guns? If so, she needed to disappear before they got her in their sights.
Sometime later, she arrived at a small river. It wasn’t wide or deep, but the current moved swiftly. A memory filtered through her mind, a television show where the man had used a river to find a farmhouse after being thrown from his horse and breaking an ankle. Sure, it was a TV show, but it was the only thing her brain locked on.
Merrie walked into the river, gasping at the cold, even though it was mid-June. She’d walk for a time in the water to hide her scent, just in case. She put her broken wrist in the water and the cold eased the pain a bit.
Putting one foot in front of the other became her sole focus—her mantra. She blocked out all the hidden dangers of a thick forest. She didn’t worry about bears, or wolves, snakes or bugs. Time had no meaning in her little world. She walked in the river until her teeth began to chatter then she sloshed along the bank, stumbling over rocks and terrain. Once she’d warmed up some from her exertion, she stepped back into the river. On and on she went until the sunrise. As light spilled over the forest, nothing else penetrated except for her mantra to take one more step.
The pain in her wrist had long since elevated into nothingness and a tiny voice warned her that she was going into shock, but she didn’t have a clue what to do about it, so she kept going. By the time morning had fully dawned—bringing with it some warmth from the sun—she’d left the river somewhere long ago, although she didn’t remember when.
Instead, she found herself delirious and on a dirt road, because she thought she saw a rumbling dragon chasing her down. She took off, trying to move away, yet knowing that she wouldn’t be able to outrun the beast. She’d come too far to give up now so she pushed on until her body suddenly gave out and she collapsed.
She tried to cry. However, everything she’d used up everything she had in her. She had no tears left. With her good arm, she tried to propel herself along, dragging her limp, useless body until her strength disappeared and she lay face down in the dirt road. If the dragon was going to kill her, she’d rather not see it coming.
As the world began to tilt and fade, she thought she heard the screech of brakes and the slamming of doors. She heard shouts. Someone touched her, turned her over. She stared up into the blue sky, dotted with clouds and thought how pretty the day seemed.
A man’s face came into her line of view—different than the bikers—and wearing a cowboy hat. She met his shocked, concerned eyes. A rational part of her brain told her that the stranger would help her. The fear driving her held fast to her mind and she tried to push him away. It didn’t work. Her body no longer cooperated.
“P-please don’t hurt…me,” she begged in a whisper.
“I’m going to help you,” the man told her, his voice deep and soothing.
“I…won’t te
ll…w-what I saw.”
“Shh. I’m going to call the police—”
Terror engulfed her. No police! He would know! He would find her! With her last bit of strength, she grabbed his collar and pulled herself up until she was nose to nose.
“No! He’ll find me. He’ll kill me. He said…the cops are bad. Please…help me!”
The small tether on consciousness she’d clung to snapped. Once again, darkness claimed her.
Order your copy here
About the Author
I like writing about the very ordinary girl thrust into extraordinary circumstances, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or corporate high rollers. I try to write characters who aren’t cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. I love writing characters who are real, complex and full of flaws, heroes and heroines who find redemption through love.
I’ve been pretty fortunate in life to experience some amazing things. I’ve lived in France, traveled throughout Europe, Australia and New Zealand. I am a mom to an amazing little boy. I’m surrounded by friends and family. And although I love holding a book in my hand, I absolutely adore my e-reader, which I’ve named Ruby. I love to hear from readers so I’ve made it really easy to find me on the web.
Email: [email protected]
Beth loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.
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