by Chiah Wilder
He pulled away, his gaze intense with desire and something else. Admiration? Could it possibly be love? I don’t think so. It’s too soon, but then I feel something so wonderful for him, why can’t he feel it for me?
“What’s going on in your head? I can see you’re wrestling with something in there.” He squeezed her hand.
“Nothing really. It’s just that I’m glad you shared that about your family. I know it was hard.”
“Only a few people know that part of my life. Not even all my brothers do. You’re the only woman I’ve shared it with. I wanted you to know.” He pressed her hand to his lips and kissed each finger.
A smile danced across her face as she slipped her hand away. “I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
On the way back to the table, she caught something from the corner of her eye. It was a form—familiar yet menacing. Slowly she turned toward the lobby, and all she saw was Bobby. Everything fell away: the low hum of conversation, the clink of glasses and dishes, the cars speeding down the street in front of the restaurant. She stopped dead; she couldn’t move a single muscle, not even to scream. Her pulse banged in her ears and sweat dripped down her back. The absolute horror of seeing him in her space completely paralyzed her.
Bobby came toward her, his beady eyes flashing with rage. His thin lips were pulled back in a snarl, exposing his crooked teeth. Raising his hands, he clenched them into fists as if foreshadowing what he was going to do to her.
The more she thought about running away, or even moving a bit, the more terrified and discouraged she felt. It seemed as if this was the end of the road for her.
One. Two. Three. Each step brought her tormentor closer to her. The heels of the new shoes Paco had bought her dug deeper into the plush carpet, immobilizing her even more. How is he here? He was so close she swore she could smell the stench of his armpits and cheap aftershave.
A choked cry for help forced itself up her throat, and she felt a drop run down her cheek.
“May I help you with something, miss?” the waiter asked her. Simple words, but they were the ones she needed to ground her.
Forcing her legs to move, she stepped back and grabbed the waiter’s arm. “I’m not feeling so well. Can you please escort me back to my table?”
“Of course.” The waiter walked with her while other patrons filled in the gap between her and Bobby. She thought she could hear his frustration and feel his breath on her skin. Without looking back, she let the waiter take her to the table where Paco waited for her.
“Thank you,” she said as the waiter helped push her chair in.
An inquisitive look spread over Paco’s face. “Are you sick?”
“Bobby’s here. I saw him in the lobby when I was—”
Paco leapt up with such force that his water glass fell over. He ran off and she watched him disappear, her heart racing and her mouth dry. The waiter hurriedly sopped up the water and in no time, he’d replaced the wet tablecloth with a clean, dry one. She played with the stem on her glass, trying to calm the thoughts that kept crashing into each other in her head. The only thing that mattered was that Bobby had found her.
Icy fingers gripped her insides and twisted them. What if Victor is here to take what he paid for? I don’t know what to do. What if this was a setup and they’ve hurt Paco? I don’t know—
“I couldn’t find the fucker anywhere. Fuck!” Paco said as he sank in the chair.
She let out the breath she’d been holding. He’s safe. “I can’t believe he found me.”
“Me neither. I don’t see how he did unless he knows someone here in town, or it was just dumb luck. Alina’s not too far from Silverado. If I were looking, I’d fan out over all the counties within a two or three hundred-mile radius.” He looked at her then, holding her gaze with his fierce one. “You can’t go anywhere without me, not until I find the sonofabitch and take care of him.”
Take care of him? “What do you mean by that? Are you going to kill him?” she asked in a low voice, glancing all around.
“I’ll just fix it so you don’t have to worry about running into him anymore.”
The way he said it, coupled with the hard look in his gaze, stopped her from asking any more questions. The truth was she didn’t really want to know anything more about it. She hated Bobby, and it seemed right that his fate should be determined by a badass biker who probably never ran from a fight in his life. Bobby was the type of man who beat up women and cowered in front of men, but she suspected Victor wasn’t that way. He was the type who loved hurting women and men—an all-around psycho.
“Let’s go.” Paco helped her up, then nestled her under his arm.
On the way back, he drove around town, through hotel, motel, and bar parking lots and up and down the streets looking for Bobby, but she didn’t see him anywhere. He finally pulled onto the old highway and headed back to the clubhouse, constantly checking the rearview mirror.
When they’d gone up to his room, changed, and turned off the lights, he drew her into his arms and kissed her. “Don’t worry about this. I’ve got your back.”
“I know,” she whispered against his chest.
After they slipped under the covers, he tucked her close, his strong arm tight around her. Paco fell asleep almost immediately, but rest evaded her for a long while. She hated what Bobby had done to her that night. He’d destroyed her safe world all over again. She could no longer pretend that all was good and normal in her life. He’d taken that away from her, and she hated him for it.
Chapter Seventeen
Bobby stared out the motel window into the parking lot. He’d seen the asshole driving around, slowing down and then coming back a few times.
I knew they were in this together. The bitch thought I was stupid. They planned this. I’m gonna kill his ass, then make sure I show the cunt who’s boss before I turn her over to Victor.
He groaned. Victor. What the fuck am I gonna do about him? There was no way he could just waltz in and turn Misty over to him. Victor would take her and kill him for sure. He’d have to think of something else. He had to make this right so he could stop looking over his shoulder every time he heard a noise.
It was sheer luck that he’d noticed Misty at the steakhouse. He’d almost stayed in and ordered a pizza, but he was starting to get cabin fever, so he’d decided to venture out. A good steak dinner with a fine glass of wine always put him in a good mood. When he saw them kissing and holding hands like a bunch of fucking teenagers, it’d made his blood boil. Is this trucker for real? Does he really want to hook up with a dirty whore like her?
Shaking his head, he closed the curtains all the way and switched on the light. The jerk hadn’t been back in over thirty minutes. Bobby had to be smart about how he was going to exact his revenge.
The buzzing phone pulled his mind away from his plotting.
“What do you have?”
“She called home tonight, told her mom that she’d call soon.”
“Did she say if she’s going to Ohio?”
“She said she was. Said she was staying with a friend and he was going to bring her, but she didn’t say when exactly, only soon.”
“What the fuck does ‘soon’ mean? I need more. Did she say where she’s staying?”
“No.”
“Did she contact the police?” Bobby grabbed a tissue and wiped his forehead.
“No. She told her mom not to call the police. Didn’t say why.”
“That’s strange. Well, I found her. It was by accident, but she’s in a southern Colorado town.”
“What’s the name?”
“I’d rather not say. You call me if you find out anything more. And if she comes home, you make sure you give her to me. I don’t like double-crossers.”
The phone clicked off. Things were definitely looking up. Much better than the way they’d been the past couple of days.
Bobby figured the trucker asshole must live in Alina. He’ll probably take her on the road
with him. The cunt’s used to truck stops.
He laughed out loud, the sound bouncing off the dingy walls. All he had to do was get a plan together. Maybe he’d put the buzz in Victor’s ear that his naughty fucktoy was headed back home. He was sure Victor would love the challenge of tracking her down, capturing her, and then punishing her.
Grabbing the pillow, he placed it against the headboard before stretching out on the bed. He switched on the TV and ordered one of the pornos the motel offered. With his hands behind his head, he waited for the movie to start.
Yeah… things are definitely looking up.
Chapter Eighteen
Paco pulled Chains aside as the members filed into the meeting room. “I need you to do something for me.”
“What do you need?” Chains replied.
“Find out where Tyler Tarleton from Findlay, Ohio lives now. I need to know the whereabouts of his dad as well. I’ll give you what I know about them after church.”
“Did they do this shit to Chelsea?”
“Yeah, and they’re gonna pay. I’m sure she’s not the only one they did it to.”
“Let’s talk afterward, and I’ll get workin’ on it.”
Paco clasped Chain’s shoulder, shaking it lightly. “Thanks, bro.” He walked to the front of the room and stood by Steel, who’d just hit the gavel signaling church was starting.
“How’re the plans coming for the attack?” he asked Diablo.
Diablo stood up. “Good. Brick, Knuckles, and Tequila have been on surveillance with the strip joint and the fuckers’ clubhouse. No one lives at the clubhouse, but they keep the women there in the basement. Some of the sonsofbitches have the women at their houses, and it seems those women are private slaves to the punks. The ones in the club’s basement work at the strip bar and are sold for sex. Some are auctioned off. It looks—”
Angry voices drowned out the rest of what Diablo was saying.
Steel brought down the gavel and the brothers settled down.
“Do they have someone watching the club at night?” Paco asked.
“Just one or two. Sometimes no one is there. They got security cameras, but they’re the cheap ones. I’d told Knuckles to start interfering with them intermittently so it looks like it’s just an occasional problem. That way, when Chains scrambles them for us, it won’t seem out of the ordinary. He’s been doing that for the past week and the fuckers haven’t done shit about it.”
“Dumb shits are what makes this a whole lot easier for us,” Eagle said, and the members rumbled their agreement.
Steel pushed away from the wall. “I already told Roughneck that we need to know where each of the members lives and the names and addresses of the ones who are keeping women captives. Chains has already found out where Victor Bustos lives.” He gestured for Chains to pick up the discussion.
Chains rose to his feet. “The asshole lives in a big mansion in the ritzy part of town. Unlike the West Avenue Bandits, his residence is heavily guarded and has a top-of-the-line security system. If we’re gonna attack it, we need to cripple the system beforehand.”
“Does he live there alone?” Army asked.
“No. His wife and two young kids are with him.”
“Fuck,” Steel said.
“We gotta find a way to infiltrate without hurting ’em,” Paco said.
“Do we gotta go after him? Isn’t it the West Avenue Bandits who’re the pain in the ass? We get rid of them and this Victor dude doesn’t have his army in the county anymore,” Cueball added.
“He’ll just start shit up again. We gotta take him down.” Paco replied.
“Do you want his balls because of the threat you think he poses, or is this about your stripper?” Army asked.
Burning anger hissed through him, consuming every inch of him. Picking up the chair in front of him, he hurled it at Army. Shotgun and Eagle leapt out of the way, and the chair crashed down on the table, its back clipping Army in the jaw. With clenched fists, nostrils flaring, and teeth bared, Army rushed toward Paco. He was waiting for him, picturing his fist shattering Army’s jaw, splattering blood on the white walls. Then suddenly their fists were slamming into each other’s face, chest, and stomach.
They stumbled apart for a brief second to catch their breaths, and Paco saw blood trickling down from the corner of Army’s mouth; then he came at Paco, punching him hard on the side of his head. Streaks of light burst in Paco’s vision, but he shook it off and kicked Army hard in the kneecap. He groaned and fell down, holding his leg.
“Have you had enough?” Paco asked as he stood over Army, anger and determination pumping through his veins.
Shotgun and Rooster went over and helped Army up. He glared at Paco, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Paco breathed heavily as he watched Army limp to the chair.
“I’m putting in a work order,” Sangre said. “You planning on breaking any more chairs?” He was the treasurer for the club, and he watched the money like a hawk.
Muerto laughed. “You’ve broken some other shit over this chick. Fuck, dude. I’ve never seen you like this.” The brothers chuckled and then mumbled among themselves.
Paco jabbed a finger in his direction. “You wanna start some shit?”
Muerto held up his hands. “I’m just saying. No one can say anything about this woman you brought into the club without you going ballistic.”
“He’s got a point,” Goldie added.
“I gotta side with them,” Shotgun said, and all the members nodded in agreement.
Paco ran his fingers through his hair. They’re fucking right. I’m outta control.
“But I gotta say that you push too hard when a brother’s interested in a woman. We took a few swings over the things you said about Hailey,” Goldie said to Army, who sat glaring with his jaw tight.
“And Raven,” Muerto added.
“And Breanna,” Steel said.
“None of you can take some ribbing? You all turn into pussies when you got a woman?” Army leaned his chair back against the wall.
“It’s the respect thing,” Paco said in a low voice. “Chelsea isn’t just ‘some stripper,’ she’s someone I care about.”
The brothers grew hushed, as if trying to comprehend what he’d just said.
After a long pause, Shotgun cleared his throat. “Do you really wanna get involved with a woman who’s got all that emotional baggage?”
“And who’s lied to you from the beginning?” Cueball added.
“Leave it the fuck alone. I don’t question your decisions, and I sure as hell don’t need to explain mine.”
“We’re just looking out for you, man,” Shotgun said.
“Last time I looked, I did just fine on my own. Look after yourself.”
Before Shotgun could reply, Steel rapped the gavel on the table. “We’ve gotten way off track here. Who Paco wants in his life is his own damn business. We need to figure out if we’re going to take out Victor Bustos as well.”
The anger in Paco still simmered; if another brother said anything about Chelsea, he’d lose it. He’d told Steel earlier about Bobby being back in town. He’d also told him about taking Chelsea home to see her family once the problem in Silverado was taken care of.
“I’m calling a lockdown in two days, so if your women or the club girls want anything, today and tomorrow are the days to get it. A few of the brothers and the prospects will stay here when we head to Silverado. We’ll leave the day after tomorrow. Does anyone have anything else to add?” Steel waited for a few seconds. “Then church is over.”
When the gavel hit the table, the brothers stood up, the scraping of chair legs on the concrete floor blended with the clink of chains and thud of boots as the members walked out of the room.
Paco stayed back, along with Diablo, Rooster, Steel, and Goldie. “The plan we’ve been devising prepares us for winning the attacks,” he said.
Rooster nodded. “As they said often during my Iraq tours, ‘Attack is the secret
defense, and defense is the planning of an attack.’”
“You got that right, brother.” Paco bumped fists with him.
“We’ll go to Silverado and hide in plain sight. Paco and I agree that we gotta hit the members who have captives hard,” Rooster said.
“Knuckles should have the addresses this afternoon. They’re gonna scope out the places and fill us in on it when we get there.” Diablo ran his hand over his shaven head.
“I’ve organized the weapons and vehicles on our end and coordinated it with Roughneck and Patriot,” Goldie added.
“Good.” Steel turned to Paco. “Is this Bobby fuck going to give us trouble?”
“Not with the West Avenue fucks. He’s embroiled in that crazy shit with Bustos. He won’t be a problem in Silverado, but he’s aiming for Chelsea. I just have to make sure she’s safe.”
“Does he know you’re a Night Rebel?” Goldie asked.
“I don’t think so. He didn’t know it that night at Satin Dolls or he wouldn’t have gotten in my face,” Paco answered. The other men chuckled. “Last night I didn’t see him, and I didn’t take my Harley. I think it was just a coincidence that he was in the restaurant at the same time we were.”
“That’s good. As long as he doesn’t know, then there’s no risk that he’ll tell Bustos who we are. If that asshole knows, he’s gonna figure something’s up since we were all at the strip club,” Diablo said.
Paco nodded. “Yeah. Bustos isn’t stupid. He could be a real problem.”
“Since you’re here, your woman is safe. Once lockdown starts no one’s leaving. He won’t find out where she is,” Steel said.
They spoke for another hour about the logistics of the upcoming attack. Afterward, Paco sought out Chains and filled him in on what he knew about Tyler Tarleton and his dad.
“I’ll see what I can find, but it may not be until after we get back. I’ve got a shitload of stuff I’m monitoring in Silverado,” Chains said.
“No worries. We have to focus on the upcoming mission. We can’t make any mistakes. Thanks, bro.”
