Redemption (MC Biker Romance)

by Wilde, Blakeley

  “MJ!” a man’s voice boomed from down the hall. “Get your ass back here!”

  She flashed me one last, apologetic look before turning and locking the door behind her. She was just as powerless as I was. She was a pawn in the game just like me.

  I woke Tuck and grabbed the food out of the bag. I broke the biscuits into tiny pieces and put a straw in the orange juice. “Here, baby. Eat this.”

  Tuck ate every last crumb. The poor kid was starving. The clock on my phone said it was almost eleven. The fast food meal would have to serve as both his breakfast and his lunch.

  I pressed my ear up against the cool, metal door to try to hear if anyone was on the other side. I heard nothing. I pulled my phone out of my pocket once again and paced around the room, this time standing on top of the sink and the bed and anything that would get me higher up to the ceiling and closer to the window.

  When I finally got two bars’ worth of signal, I tried calling Ash. To my surprise, the phone rang. My clenched onto my neck and waited for him to answer.

  “Marina?” he answered. “Oh, my God. Are you okay? Where are you?”

  “Ash,” I sobbed. I tried to stifle the cries, but it was too hard. “They took us. We’re in some warehouse. I think they’re going to kill us. Please help. Please come get us!”

  “Marina, listen to me,” he said. “Is there a window where you are?”

  “Yes,” I replied. I breathed in deep and tried to calm myself down. I had to keep my voice down. If they heard me talking, I knew they’d bust in there and then all hell would break loose.

  “I need you to look around and tell me what you see,” he said. “Street signs, businesses, landmarks.”

  I stood up on top of the bed and peeked outside the barred window. “There’s a deli across the street. Calavetti Deli. And a gas station. Kwik Stop – spelled K-W-I-K. And an intersection. It looks like Main Street and…West Ferguson Avenue?”

  Ash was quiet, and I assumed he was writing them down. “Okay, very good, Marina.”

  “Ash,” I said, trying to keep my voice low. “I only have 7% battery left.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I want you to shut your phone off and turn it back on in about six hours. This is very important.”

  “I love you,” I whispered. “If anything happens, please just know that.”

  “Marina,” Ash sighed. “Nothing’s going to happen. Your dad and I are on this. Nothing’s going to happen to you and Tuck. I’ll see you soon. We’ll be together soon, alright?”

  He sounded confident, but I was sure he was only trying to make me feel better. Right now the ball was in the Cottonmouths’ court. Their game. Their rules.

  CHAPTER 13

  “The fuck do you think you’re doing?!” LeRoy barged in seconds after I hung up with Ash. His meaty hands gripped my wrist, nearly crushing it, and forced the phone to fall from my hands and drop onto the floor.

  LeRoy picked it up from the hard, concrete floor and placed it to his ear. A menacing smile formed on his thin lips as his eyes nearly pierced through me.

  “Why, hello, Ash,” he said, drawing out each syllable slowly. “How are doing on this fine, beautiful day.”

  LeRoy paused, and I knew Ash was saying something on the other end.

  “Oh, don’t you worry,” LeRoy smirked. “We’re taking real good care of your little family. If you’re a good boy and do as you’re told, you might get to see them one last time before you meet your maker.”

  As if LeRoy had just sucker punched me, it was starting to make sense. They didn’t want to kill me or Tuck. They wanted to kill Ash. They wanted to make him pay for what he’d done to Tripp, and Tuck and I were nothing more than bait to lure him in.

  “Be a good boy, now,” LeRoy said to Ash. “Do as your alpha tells you.”

  LeRoy hung up the phone and threw it on the ground, stomping it into a million pieces with his weathered, leather boots and laughing all the while.

  “You’re disgusting,” I snickered to him. “You better not lay a hand on my husband.”

  LeRoy laughed as if I were some meek little mouse trying to scare away a lion. “Oh, it’s not your husband we want.”

  I pinched my face in confusion. “What do you want then?”

  “We want your daddy’s head on a platter,” LeRoy licked his lips like a maniacal psychopath.

  “Why my father?” I asked, still confused.

  “For covering up Tripp’s murder,” he said, as if was obvious. “Had he never done that, Tripp’s killer, who we all know is your precious Ash Decker, would be behind bars right now waiting for his turn in the electric chair.”

  “My father didn’t hurt Tripp,” I said. “He was trying to protect his family. Isn’t that what family does?”

  “Exactly,” LeRoy seethed. “Tripp was my cousin. We were family. You fuck with my family, I fuck with yours.”

  Nothing I could ever say or do would change LeRoy’s mind or the intentions of the Cottonmouths. Their perfectly orchestrated plan was finally coming together, and that’s all they cared about.

  “What are you going to do with Ash?” I asked.

  “After he turns himself in, that’s for a judge and jury to decide,” he said with his hands in the air.

  “Aren’t you worried about him turning you in for murdering my father?” I countered.

  “Oh, he’ll never turn us in,” LeRoy snickered. “If he wants to keep his little family safe that is…”

  His eyes traveled from me to Tuck and back. We were always going to be pawns in their manipulative schemes to get what they wanted. It wouldn’t end here. It wouldn’t end ever.

  “Do you have to kill my father?” I asked as I fought back tears. All the man had ever done was protect his family and his club. He was a good man with a good heart who sometimes had to do bad things.

  “You don’t know the half of what your father has done,” LeRoy huffed. “If you only knew what kind of monster he is.”

  “He’s not a monster,” I yelled. “Tripp was a monster.”

  LeRoy flew at me like a bat out of hell and slapped my cheek with an open palm. My skin burned red as pain radiated from the site. “Don’t you ever talk bad about Tripp!”

  LeRoy was so mad he was spitting and his eyes were wiggling like some crazy, rabid animal.

  “Tripp was a damn angel!” LeRoy continued. “A freaking saint!”

  They hadn’t the slightest clue about the kind of person Tripp was, and from LeRoy’s reaction, it was clear that they’d glorified him into something he wasn’t since his passing.

  My hand covered the red spot on my cheek in an attempt to sooth the pain.

  “You apologize now!” LeRoy yelled.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, staring at my feet.

  “You say that Tripp Cotton was a Goddamned saint! He was a good boy!” LeRoy kept yelling. “Say it!”

  “Tripp Cotton was…a good…person.” I could barely spit the words out. They tasted bitter and his name on my tongue took me back to that night by the bonfire. I’d tried to forget that night a million times, but it was always in the back of my mind. In many ways it felt like yesterday.

  LeRoy stood in front of me, trying to regain his composure, with his hands on his hips. His eyes burned with a scary sort of intensity.

  Tuck began to whimper. He couldn’t speak much, but he knew that the big bad man freaking out and yelling in front of us was scary.

  “Put a muzzle on your kid,” LeRoy said.

  “He needs diapers,” I said, trying to change the subject. “My bag is in Mary Jane’s car. Please. He’s been sitting in the same dirty diaper since last night.”

  LeRoy huffed and rolled his eyes as he turned and left, slamming the door behind him and clinking the lock.

  CHAPTER 14

  I settled back into the flat cushion of the mattress with Tuck in my arms. The smell of soggy diapers filled the air, and a painful silence served as a hopeless reminder of how powerless I was.

 
I shut my eyes and leaned back against the hard wall. The vrooming sound of motorcycles and the rumbling of loud trucks seeped in through the barred window, and I stood up on my toes to look out of it. I prayed, hoped and crossed my fingers that it was the Black Dogs coming to save me, but I knew it was impossible. They were six hours away.

  I squinted to try to see the men, but none of them looked familiar. They were all Cottonmouths. I sunk back down and took my place on the mattress. Nothing but despair filled my mind.

  I had to have faith, I reminded myself. My daddy wouldn’t let them win. I knew he wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to let them take his family or take him away from his family. He wouldn’t let them blackmail Ash into turning himself in.

  The metal door flung open and hit against the wall behind it. A man whom I’d never seen before with thick, curly black hair up and down his arms and a shaved head walked towards me. Clenched in his hands were zip ties.

  “Get up,” he said with a growl in his tone. Without saying another word, he reached out and grabbed my wrists, squeezing them hard before wrapping the zip ties around them and pulling them tight. “Come with me.”

  I followed behind him, purposely taking my time, as Tuck toddled behind me. “Where are we going?”

  He turned his gnarled face towards me and sneered, as if to say I was an imbecile for even asking. It was none of my business, I knew. We marched down the hall before ending up at a heavy, metal door leading back out towards the alley. The door flung open by another member and a rusty, purple cargo van with the side door wide open awaited us.

  Soggy tears stained my cheeks as I tried, and failed, to stay strong for Tuck. I kept my face turned to the side and prayed he wouldn’t notice. I didn’t want him to see the fear in my eyes or the helplessness on my face.

  “Get in,” the man commanded. His patience for me was wearing thin.

  There were no seats in the back of the van. Only open space. A few unmarked cardboard boxes lined the back area, but that was it. Nothing else. The man climbed in the van and started it up. A loud rumble vibrated the floor space, slightly startling tuck into my lap. The van shifted hard into drive and we plunged forward, out of the alley.

  Sitting on the floor of the van, I could hardly see out the windows, but if I sat up just enough, I was able to catch glimpses of street signs and buildings around us. I tried to remember each turn. Left, left, right, left, right, straight…

  When we approached a busy intersection and got caught up at the red light, the man took the opportunity to fish around in his pockets for his cigarette.

  “Damn it,” he muttered when he dropped his lighter. He reached one burly arm down on the ground, fingers searching, and eyes focused on the stoplight. He was paying no attention to us whatsoever.

  I sat up, slightly, on my knees, praying I’d go unnoticed, and took a look around. My heart fluttered when I saw it. Our trusty Ford was two cars behind us with my beloved Ash behind the wheel.

  A relieved smile washed over me for a second…until I realized that they were still winning. They wanted Ash to come rescue us. They wanted to get their revenge on him, not us.

  I rested my face on the top of Tuck’s soft, brown hair and took comfort in his familiar, little boy scent. I’d do anything to protect him, and I knew Ash would too. I couldn’t blame him for risking his life to save us.

  Five short minutes later the van pulled into the gravel driveway of an old house. Tall, shady oak trees and lush green bushes lined the drive and provided the cover he needed to get us into the house unseen.

  The man hopped out of the van, slamming the door behind him, and yanked open the side door.

  “Get inside,” he barked at us. “Hurry.”

  I nudged Tuck out of my lap and the man reached out and grabbed him, plopping him on the hard cement floor, feet first. I scooted across the floor of the van until I was able to get out, which was a challenge with tied hands.

  “Go, go,” he said as he placed his solid hand on my back and pushed me towards a door where another man was waiting.

  “Downstairs,” the other man said, his beady eyes focusing on Tuck and me. Our driver stayed on the main floor while the new guy followed us down to the basement.

  A few faint lights provided just enough light for us to see the outline of our figures, and Tuck clung close to my side. Dampness filled my lungs and a musty odor that must have been decades old lingered in the air.

  “Sit down,” the man ordered. He pointed to an empty space on the cold, cement floor by a cinder block wall.

  I sat down and leaned my back against the cool wall, which instantly sent shivers down my spine, and Tuck curled up in my lap.

  We waited, in silence, with our guard’s eyes upon us at all times. He never flinched. Never blinked. Just stared. I assumed he was given orders not to let us out of his sight and not to let us move a muscle. Things were getting very real, very quickly.

  The shade of the late evening sun swept through and took out the last of the remaining daylight that trickled in through a tiny, rectangular window on the far side of the basement.

  The echo of footsteps coming down the stairs, jolted all of our heads in that direction. They weren’t heavy stomps, like those of a man in big, leather boots. They were lighter steps.

  “MJ,” the guard said as she came out from the stairway. “What are you doing down here?”

  “There’s a situation upstairs,” she said. She spoke to him, but her eyes were on mine. A mix of hopelessness and fear glinted through her stare.

  “Here,” the guard said as he headed towards the stairs. “Take this. Don’t let them move an inch.”

  He shoved a Glock 42 into her arms as he stomped up the stairs. I hadn’t even noticed he was carrying a gun, and now I was sure he had others on him. That one was must have been reserved especially for us.

  MJ gripped her fingers around the gun and then dropped it to her side, keeping her gaze honed in on us.

  CHAPTER 15

  The faint murmur of scuffles, stomps, and growls on the floor above us echoed throughout the basement. Something was happening upstairs, and I knew it could only mean one thing: Ash was there.

  One man against ten, or however many others were up there, could never end well. I hung my head as hot tears rolled down my cheeks and landed on the top of Tuck’s head. My eyes traced over to where MJ was sitting. She had cocked her gun and had it pointed at the base of the stairs. If Ash came down, she would shoot him for sure.

  The scuffles above abruptly stopped, and heavy footsteps stomped down the creaky basement steps.

  “Ash! She has a gun!” I yelled out to warn him before he came bursting out from the bottom of the steps.

  MJ’s hands quivered just a little, and I knew deep down she wasn’t a horrible person. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She was just loyal to her club. Just doing what she was told to do.

  Ash ducked out from around the bottom of the steps and revealed himself under the faint glimmer of the fading light bulb above. As the light cast shadows on his face, he looked scary, intimidating, and determined. There was no stopping him now.

  “Drop the gun,” he said, his eyes locked tight into MJ’s indomitable glare.

  “MJ, please!” I yelled with high-pitched desperation in my voice. “Don’t do this!”

  Ash took slow steps towards MJ, who had popped her gun out towards him by then. “You don’t have to do this. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

  MJ’s lips quivered. “Yes it does. This is how it has to be.”

  “You can get out now,” Ash said. “We won’t tell a soul you were here.”

  “Right, like I’m supposed to believe that,” she said with an eye roll. Her gun was still pointed straight at Ash’s chest.

  “This is your chance to redeem yourself,” he said. For someone with a gun pointed straight at him, Ash was eerily cool and collected. But he was doing it for us.

  Tense silence filled the space around us all as we waited for MJ’s
next move. The slightest tremble of her finger could’ve meant a fatal demise for all of us, but instead she pursed her lips, dropped the gun, and bolted up the stairs. We listened for the backdoor to slam shut before we wallowed in any sort of relief.

  “Marina,” Ash said as he rushed over to me. He pulled a knife from his pocket and cut the zip tie, freeing my hands. He scooped Tuck up into his big, strong arms and kissed his chubby cheeks. “Tuck, my sweet boy.”