by Nicole James
Ghost turned to Easy. “Nice shot, man.”
Easy shouldered the weapon and grinned. “Did I just blow your mind, or what?”
“You shoot gators with that thing?” Ghost asked.
“You two want to focus on the mission,” Shades rebuked them.
***
Blood and Sandman stood in Black Jack’s office.
“Let’s get on with it. Where is she?” Blood asked.
Black Jack smiled up at him from behind his desk. “All in good time, Etienne. First you have to come through with your end of this deal.”
Blood tossed the ring on the desk. Black Jack’s eyes flared at the sight of the sparkling emerald. He picked it up and studied it. “Been a long time since I’ve seen this.”
Sandman exchanged a glance with Blood, and both their eyes shifted to the man standing at the door behind them and another at a second side door.
“Show me the girl,” Blood bit out.
“You know the ring was only part of the deal. You know what I really want.” He stared down Blood, then his eyes dropped to the leather cut Blood wore, and he jerked his chin toward it. “Take it off.”
Sandman gave Blood a questioning look.
Blood clenched his jaw. “Let me see the girl, first.”
At that qualifying word, Sandman turned on him. “First? What the hell do you mean, first? What the fuck is he talking about?”
Black Jack chuckled. “He didn’t tell you?”
At that, Sandman’s eyes swung to him. “Tell me what?”
“My son has decided to leave the MC and rejoin the family business. Isn’t that right, Etienne?”
“The hell he is. Tell him he’s full of shit, Blood.”
Blood ignored Sandman and took a step toward Black Jack. “I’m fucking here. Like you asked. Now show me the girl, damn it!”
Black Jack stared him down for a long moment before nodding to the man behind them.
“Look around. All this—everything I’ve built—is all your birthright. You’ll be King of the Quarter one day now that you’ve come back home, back where you belong, where you’ve always belonged.”
Sandman glared at Blood. “What the fuck’s he talkin’ about?” When Blood didn’t reply, his brows shot up. “You throwin’ down your colors? For this asshole? You better tell me that’s a fucking joke.”
Black Jack, noting the increasing tension in the room, yelled out, “Tanner! Get in here!”
A moment later the door opened, and in strolled Undertaker and several of his men, guns drawn.
“Tanner doesn’t work here anymore,” Undertaker informed Black Jack with a smile.
Black Jack’s one remaining man drew his weapon, but he was outnumbered.
Blood glanced toward Undertaker with a look that said what the fuck are you doing here?
Undertaker wasn’t about to explain a thing in front of Black Jack and Blood hadn’t expected him to, so he ground his teeth and looked back at Black Jack, hoping this hadn’t fucked the whole deal up. He knew his father was capable of anything.
Maybe Undertaker thought the man was out of options, but Blood knew better than to underestimate his father. True to his suspicions, Black Jack pushed a button under his desk and several plumes of smoke shot out from the desk and walls, filling the room with a cloudy screen.
The men broke down in coughing fits as Blood dove blindly across the desk for Black Jack, but the man was gone.
Sandman threw open the French doors leading to the balcony to get some air into the room. In the few seconds it took for the smoke to clear, it became apparent that Black Jack was long gone.
“Where the fuck did he go?” Undertaker bit out, coughing. He pointed to the second door. “Search that hallway!”
Blood shook his head and felt along the walls. “He didn’t go out that way. The bastard’s got a secret passage. I’d bet my life on it. We just need to find it. Goddamn it.”
“I’ve got men all around this place. He won’t get far.”
Blood tapped the wall and located a section that gave off a hollow sound. He grabbed a gun from one of the men and blasted a dozen rounds into the wallpaper. Then he punched his fist through the wall and began jerking pieces of drywall out. Sandman pitched in and helped him. They found a hollow section with a metal ladder that led down toward the ground level and beyond in the dark shaft. Sandman pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and peered down.
“That goes below ground.”
The men were startled as gunfire resonated through the building. Black Jack’s men were putting up a fight. Blood looked at Undertaker. “Find Holly for me, please. I’m going after the son of a bitch.”
Undertaker nodded. “Be careful. This whole place might be booby-trapped.”
Blood nodded.
Mooch tossed another gun to Sandman as he followed Blood into the shaft.
The two men climbed down the ladder, following it down thirty feet before their boots landed on wet ground. They squatted in the tunnel that was only about four feet high, and Sandman flashed his light down the only way it led.
“Shh, listen,” Blood bit out. They both strained their ears. “You hear footsteps?”
Sandman looked back up at the shaft. “Can’t tell if they’re coming from above or not.”
“Come on.”
The two men moved forward, guns in hand.
***
Above them, Undertaker, Mooch, and Easy all headed down the hall to where Bam-Bam was in a gunfight with a man crouched around a corner. They all fought their way to the end, bullets ricocheting off the walls.
“You smell that?” Mooch asked.
Undertaker turned back toward the main staircase where smoke was drifting up. “They set the place on fire. Shit.”
A haze of smoke rose and curled along the ceiling.
“This old place is gonna go up like a tinderbox.”
They moved along the hall, their backs pressed to the wall, knowing they only had minutes to find the girl. When they reached the end, the hall opened to the left and to the right. Halfway down the hall to the left were several nervous men guarding a door.
Undertaker pressed his back against the wall around the corner. The men hadn’t seen them yet. He could overhear their arguing voices.
“The place is on fire, you moron. I’m not waiting around to burn to death.”
The second man put a walkie-talkie to his ear. “Jocko, come in. You there? What’s going on?”
“Fuck this shit,” the first man said, abandoning his post and the other two men to run down the hall toward where the MC waited. As he came around the corner, Mooch took him out with two shots. He was dead before he hit the oriental carpet runner.
Easy darted into the hall and took out the men still at the door. They slumped to the floor.
Bam-Bam peered around the corner. “They’re down.”
Just as he said it, more gunfire erupted from the end of the hall to the right.
“Cover me!” Undertaker yelled as he moved to the door the men had been guarding. It was locked, so he kicked it in with a boot. The door gave way and bounced off the interior wall.
His men kept firing as he moved inside.
There was a young terrified girl bound to the bed, a gag tied around her mouth. Her scream behind the dirty rag was muffled, and her eyes were wide with fear.
Undertaker holstered his weapon and put his hands in the air. “I’m here to take you home, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her fearful eyes dropped to his patch-covered leather vest, and Undertaker knew that to her, he was just another one of these monsters.
The smell of smoke drifted into the room with the wisps crawling across the ceiling, reminding Undertaker he didn’t have much time. He moved toward her as slowly as he dared and eased onto the bed next to her. “I’m going to take my knife out and cut you loose, honey, okay?”
Her fearful eyes dropped to his hand as he pulled his knife free. She didn’t believe he wasn’t going to
hurt her, and she began to fight against her bounds.
“Easy, girl. Easy. Your sister, Cat, sent me. Your name’s Holly, right?”
She nodded.
“I’m going to take you to your sister, Holly. No one’s going to hurt you again. I promise.” He sliced through the rope. As soon as she was free, she scrambled back on the bed to the corner, pulling the gag from her head.
Undertaker immediately put the knife away and backed off. “It’s okay, Holly. I’m here to get you out and bring you home.”
She sat in the corner shaking, her eyes darting to the door as Mooch stuck his head in.
“Boss, fire’s spreading quick. The lower level is about to go.”
“Get the men out. We’ll be right behind you,” Undertaker said.
“I’m not leaving you here,” Mooch protested.
“Get out!” Undertaker snapped. “That’s an order.”
Mooch’s eyes took in the girl, and he moved back out the door.
“The building’s on fire, darlin’. We need to get out. The bad men are all dead. You don’t have to worry. No one’s going to hurt you. I promise.”
She shook her head.
Undertaker pulled the small teddy bear he’d tucked in his vest and held it out to her. “Your sister sent this for you. It’s yours, right?”
She frowned, reached out, and took it from his hands, clutching it to her. “Cat? She’s h-here?”
Undertaker studied her eyes. “She’s waiting for you somewhere safe. I’m going to take you to her, I promise. She sent that so you’d know not to be scared.”
A moment later, she was across the bed and throwing herself into his arms. He caught her to his chest, holding her tight, and murmured into her ear, “Shh, shh. It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna get you out of here.”
He stroked her head. Her silky hair was the color of corn silk and just as soft under his hand as he whispered, “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
He moved toward the door and peered out, but the fire was already coming up the stairs and down the hall. He closed the door and stepped to the window. There was a balcony, thank God. He hefted the window up and climbed out, extending his hand to her. “Come on, sweetheart. We have to hurry.”
She slipped her hand in his and climbed out after him.
Undertaker glanced around. There were stairs at the far right of the gallery, but that part of the building was already consumed, the light from the flames casting an orange glow to everything surrounding it. The heat was becoming unbearable. They’d have to go over the rail and down the support post. Undertaker leaned over and studied it. Thankfully it was iron scrollwork, and so he should be able to get a foothold.
A shot pinged off the wrought iron above his head, and Undertaker spun around, drawing his gun. One of Black Jack’s men fired from the second floor window of the adjacent wing.
Undertaker shoved Holly behind him, putting himself between her and the threat. He returned fire, and the man pitched forward out the window, plunging to his death.
Holly started to fall apart. Undertaker spun back to her and, with a hand to her cheek, turned her face from the broken body on the ground. “Don’t look down. Keep your eyes on mine, darlin’.”
She did as he asked, her wide eyes finding and holding his.
“Come on, angel. Take my hand.” He climbed over the rail and extended his arm toward her. She peered over the edge and backed away, shaking her head. “Holly, you have to trust me. I won’t let you fall.”
She glanced toward the flames; the only other way out was no longer an option. Turning back to him with tear-filled eyes, she took a tentative step toward him.
“Thatta girl. Come on.”
She took another step and grabbed his hand. His strong arm wrapped around her waist, and he hoisted her over the rail. “Grab onto my back. Wrap your arms around me.”
She did as she was told.
“Good girl. Don’t let go.”
Her hold tightened, and Undertaker struggled down the wrought iron with her clinging to his back.
When they got to the ground, he grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the building as the other side caved in.
She clutched the teddy bear close to her with one hand.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Blood sat on his bike in the parking lot outside the police station where Cat had been held overnight. The club’s bail bondsman was inside, bailing her out. The man knew not to speak to her about anything that had gone on, so when Cat walked outside, she didn’t know if they had been able to save Holly or not.
One look at her as she walked toward him, and Blood could tell she was making all kinds of assumptions when she saw he was alone. Cat tried to hold it together as she walked, but when she got closer, her face crumpled, and she dashed the last few yards toward him.
Blood’s arms opened wide, wanting, for the first time in his life, to comfort a woman and make everything better. Cat flung herself into his waiting arms. He held her tight, his head dipping to hers as she broke down. “Shh, shh… babe. She’s okay. We got her.”
She pushed out of his arms to stare up at him. “You got her?”
Blood cupped her cheeks, his thumb brushing her tears away. “She’s at the clubhouse. It’s over, Cat. It’s over.”
“Is she okay? I want to see her.”
Blood nodded. “I know you do. I’ll take you to her. Undertaker’s been with her the whole time. He’s the one who found her and got her out. He hasn’t left her side. She won’t let him out of her sight. It’s the weirdest shit I ever saw.”
“Is she hurt?”
“Physically, she seems okay. Mentally, she’s pretty fragile. Undertaker’s been very protective of her, and she’s latched onto him. But she’s been waiting for you. We told her we were going to get you and bring you to her.”
“I want to see her.”
Blood nodded and brushed the hair back from her face. “How’s my little jailbird? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but that place was awful. I don’t ever want to go back.”
“Don’t plan on lettin’ that happen, babe.”
She stared up in his face. “What happened with your father? Did you—”
He shook his head. “He got away. We trailed him through some underground tunnels. They led to another building, but we lost him.”
“I’m sorry.”
He passed her a helmet and climbed on his bike. She scrambled on the back, and they roared off.
***
Undertaker sat on the bed in the room Cat had been staying in at the Clubhouse. Across from him, sat her sister, Holly, and between them a deck of cards as they played a game of War on the worn chenille bedspread.
His opponent didn’t seem to have her head in the game, though, and he could understand that, considering what she’d been through. He’d brought out the deck of cards mainly to get her mind off everything that had happened. That and he was running out of ways to entertain her that didn’t involve touching—something he very much wanted to do and was finding it hard to keep a tight rein on.
He’d gained her trust while rescuing her, and ever since then she’d latched onto him, not wanting him to leave her sight. He supposed it was some kind of hero worship, the kind women usually reserved for good-looking firemen, not middle-aged bikers like him—especially one old enough to be her father.
He flipped a ten of diamonds down, and she flipped a queen of hearts. When she didn’t scoop up the cards right away, he glanced up at her and gently prodded, “You won, darlin’.”
Those pretty blue eyes met his with a vacant stare, and he had to take a breath. She really was so young and innocent, and damned if that didn’t pull at him.
He smiled. “Not the first time the queen of hearts has done me in.”
That got the corner of her lips tugging up. Pretty pink lips, no lipstick, no gloss, just soft billowy lips that called out to be kissed.
Hell, pull
your shit together, old man. She’s half your age.
He scooped up the cards and put them in her pile. “You go first this time, sweetheart.”
There was a knock at the door, and he turned his head. “Yeah?”
The door opened, and Blood led Cat in. The minute Holly saw her sister, she was off the bed like a shot, the cards scattering, along with the small teddy bear she hadn’t let go of since last night.
The two sisters flew into each other’s arms.
Undertaker stood from the bed, his eyes connecting with Blood’s, and he lifted his chin toward the door, signaling they leave the two girls alone. “We’ll let you two catch up.”
The moment he did, Holly pushed out of Cat’s arms to stare at him, her expression once again filled with anxiety. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
Undertaker’s grin communicated his patience with the girl. “No, babe. I’ll be just down the hall in my office if you need me. You and your sister need some time alone.” Why did the look in her eyes make him feel like he was abandoning her?
Cat’s curious eyes moved between them.
“You’ll be fine, Holly. You’re safe here. I’m not going far,” he assured her.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
She reluctantly nodded, and he and Blood moved out into the hall.
Blood gave him a look.
Undertaker put his finger to his lips, signaling for Blood to stay quiet. He didn’t want Holly to hear him make any comment about the state she was in. He led Blood to his office.
Instead of moving behind the desk, he went straight to a side credenza where he kept his booze. Unscrewing the bottle of Jack, he poured himself a double shot and tried to disregard the tremor in his hand. Tossing it down, he turned to find Blood standing, his arms crossed and a smug look on his face. “You want one?”
“I’m good,” Blood replied with a grin.
“Wipe that smile off your face. This shit’s not funny.”
“Parts of it are.”
“The part where a sweet girl like her would turn to the President of the fucking New Orleans chapter of the Evil Dead MC to feel safe?”
