TAKING HIS SEED: The Jagged Rebels MC

by Zoey Parker

  The worry in her voice melted his heart. At least she cared about him still. “I’m at the hospital. Abram burned my house down, but I’m okay. Where are you and where’s Emma?”

  “They called and told me to meet them at this farmhouse. I’m heading there now. They said not to call the cops or you. I thought maybe they had your phone and were testing me or something. That’s why I stopped calling. I didn’t want them to hurt you, too, and I couldn’t get ahold of you, and I didn’t know what else to do. They’ve had her for hours and she must be terrified.”

  “Okay, okay, hold on. Slow down. Who called you?” He was already fumbling around, trying to get his shoes back on. He held the phone with his injured hand—gingerly because closing it at all hurt—and yanked on his boots with his other hand.

  He put the phone down for a second and called toward the door, “Nate!”

  “I don’t know who called. Some guy. I guess one of Abram’s guys? He said…” She broke into sobs again and he couldn’t understand her.

  “He said what?”

  “If I…wanted to see her…alive…”

  The anger that had settled in his stomach earlier burst through his body, lighting every nerve on fire. He was raging now inside. His teeth ached, he clenched them together so hard. How dare they do something like this. It would have been bad enough if they took Becca, but the child? And that hurt Emma and Becca. Maybe hurt Becca even worse. And that hurt him. He would stand for none of it. Abram and his guys were dead. Maybe he’d even torture Abram first. Just to let him know what it felt like to be hurt so badly.

  “Do you think they’d really kill her?” She sniffled through the words.

  Yes, absolutely. They were that evil. And stupid. But he’d never tell her that. Why make it worse? “Not a chance. They need her to alive to get to me. Where are you right now?”

  She let out a sigh. “Good. I’m almost at the farmhouse.”

  “No, no, no. Do not go there alone. Wait for me.”

  “Rowan, I have to. They said to go without you.”

  “Becca, no.” Nate finally showed up again in his room. “Hang on a sec.” He turned to Nate. “I need your car. They took Becca’s daughter.”

  Nate’s jaw dropped open. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “I wish.”

  Nate handed over his keys. “Need anything else?”

  “Nope. I just gotta go get them and kill Abram.”

  “Whoa. Wait a second. You can’t go alone.” He took out his phone and started making calls.

  “Where are you?” Rowan demanded into the phone.

  “Almost there.”

  “Where? Becca, do not go in there alone! Do you hear me?”

  She responded with sobs. “I have to. I’m sorry.”

  His phone beeped, telling him the call ended. What the hell? She hadn’t hung up, had she? He called back and it went right to voicemail. She’d shut her phone off. No, no. Was she nuts? He was on his feet and took two steps toward the door before the IV yanked on his arm. Pain shot through him and he cursed loudly. What a nightmare this whole thing was.

  They must’ve planned this. Have him distracted with his house fire so he couldn’t protect Becca and Emma. Keep him busy so he couldn’t go to her. Bullshit.

  He peeled the tape back on his arm.

  “Dude, what are you doing?” Nate asked. He put his phone down. “I got five guys so far. They’re on their way.”

  “I have to go now. Becca is going to some farmhouse where Emma is and she shut off her phone. She’s going in there alone.”

  Nate sucked in a breath. “Where’s it at? We’ll get there fast.”

  “That’s the best part.” Rowan clenched his uninjured hand into a fist. “I have no fucking clue.”

  Nate picked up his phone again. “Small change of plans. I need you to go to Abram’s HQ and beat someone to find out what farmhouse Emma is being held in where they told Becca to go.” Nate ended the call and looked at him. “On it. What else?”

  Rowan slid the needle from his arm and pressed the tape to the hole that was now spouting blood. “Tell me Marcus woke up and is just fine.”

  Nate scratched the back of his neck. “Marcus woke up and is just fine.”

  Rowan knew in his tone he was only repeating what he’d said because he’d told him to. Marcus wasn’t fine. Probably hadn’t woken up. “Dammit.” He punched the bed. “Someone call his wife?”

  “I did myself.”

  “Good on you. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Don’t you need to check out or something?”

  Rowan glared at him. “You think we have time for that?”

  Nate turned and left the room, pausing to see that Rowan was behind him.

  They hurried through the halls, making sure no one had noticed they were gone. Rowan pressed his good hand to the IV spot, which was still bleeding. At least it had tape over it so he wouldn’t bleed all over the place. They dashed to Nate’s car, stuck on the top row of the large parking garage.

  “Come on, come on.” Rowan banged his good fist on the dash as they made their way out.

  “I’m doing my best.” Nate took the turns as fast as he could, but now he was behind a car that seemed terrified of the bends and was crawling along.

  Rowan almost ripped his hair from his head. He picked up his phone and called Becca again. She didn’t answer, but in case she checked her messages, he said, “Listen to me, please. I know what they said, but they’re just going to take you, too, to get to me. Do not go in there alone, I’m begging you. We’re on our way. Please wait for us.”

  “Crazy chick,” Nate said.

  “I guess when they have your kid, you do whatever they say.”

  “Well, they ain’t going be saying anything at all when we’re through with them. Assuming the original plan is out the window.”

  Rowan looked at him with the rage and anguish raw on his face. “My only plan is for them to die. Painfully, if possible.”

  Nate nodded once. “Consider it done.” Nate’s phone rang and he answered, “Tell me good news, man.” He paused to listen, then said, “494 Greenville Road. Head right there. Yup. Take them all out.”

  He set his phone down. “You get that? That’s where the farmhouse is. GPS it.” He tossed the phone to Rowan.

  Rowan typed in the address. Fifteen minutes away. That was an eternity. He set the phone in the holder attached to the window.

  “We’ll get there in half the time,” Nate said, and pressed the gas pedal harder. When the road cleared, he flew at twice the speed limit.

  It still wasn’t fast enough for Rowan. Nothing could be. He called Becca again. No answer. She was probably there already. What could be happening right now?

  “I need a gun. I only have my knife on me,” Rowan said.

  “Take the one in the glove compartment. It’s unregistered.”

  Rowan opened the compartment and took out the gun, checked the rounds. Full magazine. He had ten rounds to sink into those assholes. He tucked the gun into the back of his jeans and watched the progress on the GPS. They still had a few minutes to go.

  He looked ahead on the empty road. In the distance, he saw a tall building. It grew closer. Tall and wood, the red paint chipping and the wood splintered. It looked abandoned. It looked like the perfect place to kill some people. That was probably what Abram had thought, but little did he know he’d be the one getting killed today. Him and all his guys. Forget recruiting. Anyone affiliated with the Screaming Griffins in any way was going to die today. Hell, maybe he’d even take out their girls and kids. He was in that kind of a mood.

  He saw a few bikes on the road up ahead. Nate had called anyone who wasn’t involved in the fire at headquarters and it looked like five of his guys were there already, waiting. Nate pulled the car over near them.

  Rowan got out of the car and looked at the farmhouse. Sitting off to the side was Becca’s car. She was here. She was inside of the building. They had her. He wante
d to charge in right now, but they had to be smart about it.

  They slid off their bikes and gathered around him, looking for instructions from their leader. “All right, here’s the plan. All Griffins die today. We’ll torch the place when we’re done. Scrap recruiting. I don’t want any of them. I want them all dead, and if you can make it painful, even better.”

  One by one, they nodded. Ricky punched his fist into his other hand. “Let’s get a move on, then.”

  Chapter 12

  Becca could barely drive, she was crying so hard. She had been so relieved to hear from Rowan and to know he was mostly okay. She felt bad that she hadn’t asked more about his house and what had happened, but they’d have time to discuss that later. She hoped. His house wasn’t totally destroyed, was it? Had anyone been hurt? As long as he was okay enough to talk to her and say he was coming. Even if he weren’t coming. All that mattered was that he was okay. They didn’t have him and they wouldn’t get him if she was able to prevent it somehow. She’d do whatever she could to get Emma and keep Rowan out of it. No reason for more people to get involved in this mess.

  She had to hang up on him, though. As badly as she wanted to keep hearing his voice, and she wanted to wait for him even more badly, she had no choice. The guy had been clear. No cops, no Rowan. She already worried that being near the cop when she got the call had somehow messed things up. What if they had someone watching and they had seen there was a cop there? Would they rush things and kill Emma faster? Or hurt her somehow?

  The thought of her being hurt made her want to throw up. The emotional damage was done. There was nothing Becca could do about that now. They’d deal with it later. Maybe Emma would need some therapy or something. She might deal with anything from nightmares to shock. Who knew what they had done when they took her and how they were handling her now. Was it too much to hope that the person who was in charge of watching her was nice? Maybe he had kids, too? Maybe Emma thought it was all a game. Maybe, somehow, they’d told her Mommy was coming and it’d all be okay.

  That made her cry even harder because she knew it was so far from the truth. And the truth was too much to imagine.

  She tried to focus on driving. She was getting close to the farmhouse. Just a few more minutes. What should she do when she got there? Just walk in? Would someone be outside waiting for her? How soon would she see Emma?

  Then she saw it. It was a big building. An old farm. The farmhouse was wooden and red and looked like it was in disrepair. It looked abandoned or haunted or both. It was probably full of spiders and critters. Not that anything like that should be her concern at this moment, but she hated spiders and mice. All she’d need was to be in there, trying to get Emma, and have a mouse run across her path and scatter her thoughts. How perfect would that be.

  She pulled her car up beside the building. There was no one out front. No welcoming party ready to snatch her from her car. This was the right place, right? She could barely think straight, her mind raced, and her hands were sweaty from her panic. She had to take in many breaths to steady herself.

  This was madness, what she was about to do. Walk into an empty building where her daughter was being held captive by some dangerous men. Who knew what they’d do to her. She wasn’t trained to fight or protect herself in any way. She had the knife in her car, but she wasn’t going to take it in with her. Why should she? She didn’t know how to use it properly. She’d likely end up hurting herself worse than she’d hurt anyone else. So, she really had nothing. No means to save Emma, no means to save herself.

  Maybe she should wait for Rowan. How soon would he be there? She hadn’t told him the address. At the time, it was more important for her to be there without him, but now she regretted it. Maybe she should call back and tell him? But then he’d come for sure, and he might get himself hurt. No. Enough people were involved in this already. She didn’t need to drag him into it again. Just get in there and get Emma and do it alone.

  She looked up and down the street, hopeful despite herself that someone would show up and come to her rescue. There were no cars, no motorcycles that she could see.

  With a trembling hand, she opened her car door. She had her purse and figured there was no benefit in taking it in with her. What was the etiquette for going to rescue your child from kidnappers? She slid her phone into her pocket and tucked her purse under her seat. Her car keys were in her other pocket.

  She stepped one foot out, hitting dirt and sending a small puff of dust into the air. She turned and stepped her other foot down. She could do this. Emma needed her. Emma was right there, just on the other side of this wooden wall. She might be crying for her mommy right now. Becca stood and closed the car door quietly. If she could somehow catch them off guard, that had to be to her benefit, right?

  She walked slowly to the building. She listened hard, hoping to hear a motorcycle off in the distance, giving her a reason to wait. Something. Anything. A car? A truck? Someone happening to be passing by that she could call out to help her? As slowly as she walked, it wasn’t slow enough. No one came. She heard no one approaching.

  The porch was low and looked like she would step right through it if she stomped or jumped on it. She stepped up carefully and slowly. When she got to the top and stood before the door, she turned and paused again. Nothing but stillness and a gentle breeze. It would be a nice, peaceful day if she weren’t about to walk into chaos.

  Was she about to walk into her death? Or into some sort of kidnapping situation? This probably was a very stupid thing. She was an idiot for going in alone. Rowan would be mad. She should have told him where she was. At least then she could hope he was on his way. She could have rescue fantasies of him busting in, his eyes blazing, his muscles popping, and he’d fight off the bad guys one by one, then scoop her into his arms and kiss her hard before turning to shoot another guy who came out of nowhere to attack them.

  But that was the movies and this was real life, and he wasn’t coming. He had no idea where she was. It gave her some comfort to know that if he did know where she was, he’d already be on his way. He would always come for her, always protect her. How could she ever have doubted him? Now all she wanted was to have him close and to keep him close forever. How could she have sent him away and treated him so coldly? How could she have thought he was anything like these men who’d taken her daughter? He wasn’t. He’d never do a thing like this. Not for money or for revenge. But for her, he’d do anything.

  If only she got the chance to see him again, she’d kiss him and tell him she was sorry and she’d fall into his arms and be his forever. And then they’d make passionate love and she’d never have to be scared again. He’d always be there for them, to protect them and comfort them. To wrap his strong arms around her and keep her safe.

  Tears came to her eyes picturing all this. She had to let the image go. She wouldn’t see him again. He couldn’t get to her; she’d made sure of that. He couldn’t protect her, no matter how badly he wanted to. She’d go in there alone and she probably wouldn’t come back out. At least she’d be with Emma. At least they’d die together.

  With one last deep breath, she turned the knob and pushed open the door. She stepped inside a room. The bright light of the day blinded her and she squinted, trying to see anything in the room. The door slammed shut. She hadn’t touched it. Her heart leapt to her throat and she tried to swallow.

  A hand clamped around her mouth and something hard pressed against her head. She knew this feeling. She’d just gone through this days ago. Someone was pressing a gun to her head.

  “Do not scream,” a voice said.

  Another man rose from a chair in the next room. “Hell, let her scream. Ain’t no one around to hear her. Might be kinda fun.”

  The man holding her dropped his hand from her mouth. She didn’t scream, though. She blinked faster to see in the dim room.

  The only piece of furniture was the chair the man had been sitting in. An old armchair covered in a large cloth and a layer
of dirt. When he stood, a cloud of dust followed him. The rest of the place was one large series of rooms, with wide doorways connecting them. A staircase leading upstairs in front of her had several steps missing. The steps that were still there were warped and looked like they wouldn’t hold much weight. In the light coming in through the windows, she saw beams of dancing dust and layers of grime on every surface. It smelled musty and old, like the doors hadn’t been opened in years. Maybe they hadn’t been before this. It was cooler inside than it had been in the hot sun, but it was sticky and the air didn’t move. The dirt in the air already seemed to be clinging to her skin and clothing.

  She looked left and right through the rooms. Where was Emma? The only people here besides her were the man holding her and the other man who had been sitting on the chair. Did they lie? Was she really somewhere else?