Ruthless (Nomad Outlaws Trilogy Book 1)

by Tory Richards

  "Ginger…"

  "Where is she?" I asked, trying to remain calm. The 911 operator picked up, and I gave her the address, telling her that there'd been an attack and that we needed the police and an ambulance. Then I dialed Tanner, the Sentinels' president, and a friend of mine who also happened to be cool with Daytona law enforcement, just in case I needed him. "Della--" I reached for the throw hanging off the back of the sofa and arranged it carefully under her head. She moaned again as I moved her. "Sorry, sweetheart." Jesus, she was a bloody mess. Unable to tell if she had a wound that needed immediate attention, I searched to see if she was bleeding out anywhere. "Where's Ginger?" Blood was staining the fabric between her legs.

  "Gone," she murmured low.

  I'd figured that. "Did someone take her?"

  I caught her slight nod. "D-Daryl."

  I frowned. "He did this shit to you?"

  Again she nodded. "H-He came ba-ack for money. Though I-I was lying‒" She couldn't finish her sentence as she was gripped by some terrible pain.

  The fucking prick! I should have known from the way he'd stomped out of the apartment the night before that he was going to come back.

  "Did-Didn't have it." She paused and took a slow breath. "Beat m-me."

  That was fucking obvious. "Why did he take Ginger?"

  She closed her eyes and I watched tears leak out of the corners. "My fault," she admitted in a pained voice. "I-I came ov-over here. Tr-tried to get a-way from him."

  She didn't need to explain the rest. It was easy to surmise what had happened after that. The little fucker! I was going to end him. I fisted my hand, fighting the urge to slam it against the wall, angry at myself for deciding to stay at a motel the night before. With the job I had to work later that evening with Jace and Moody, I'd wanted a solid, undisturbed sleep. Being curled up around Ginger's soft, enticing curves would have been too distracting.

  I could hear the sirens in the distance. Normally I wouldn't have hung around, but I wasn't a bastard. I couldn't leave Della alone like this, and I needed more answers before they took her away. "Sweetheart, do you know where he took her?"

  Her face was swollen beyond recognition, blood was seeping from her nose and mouth and an area behind her ear. Her lips were split open. One eye was completely swollen shut. Her clothes were torn, the blood that was splattered on them probably coming from her face. Her fingers were broken on one hand, her other hand was gripping between her legs. She was lying in a semi-fetal position. I could only imagine what kind of internal injuries she may have.

  "Don't know," she finally got out in a soft tone. "I h-heard Daryl say he knew someone . . ." She drifted off, to gather her thoughts I assumed. I waited, the close sound of the sirens revealing that they'd arrived. "A m-man. I think. Someone lo-looking for girls?” A deep furrow appeared between her brows. "Does th-that sound right?" It was obvious that she thought she was confused by what she'd heard.

  I wasn't confused over what she'd overheard, only slightly amazed that Daryl would have those kinds of connections. He hadn't struck me as someone with friends in those circles.

  "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. Listen, the cops will be here any second. Don't mention anything about Daryl taking Ginger." I wanted to deal with that little fucker myself. "Okay?" I sensed her hesitation and realized that she may be having a hard time comprehending what I was saying. "Do you understand, Della? I'll get Ginger back. And I'll make Daryl pay. You want that, right?" She nodded. "Then leave it to me. All you need to tell the cops is that you don't know who attacked you. Can you do that?"

  "Yes," she whispered. She grabbed for my hand. "Please find her."

  "Police!"

  I looked up to see two cops come through the doorway, and Tanner was right behind them. His serious gaze took in the scene before our eyes met. He and I went way back, and I knew that I could trust him to see the truth before his eyes.

  "Who called it in?" the younger cop asked. The older, heavier cop squatted next to Della.

  "I did," I said, getting to my feet slowly. I kept my hands in plain sight, because experience had taught me that some cops jumped to conclusions. "I found her like this."

  "Don't move!" He was a rookie, that was obvious, and gung-ho.

  Tanner and I exchanged knowing smirks. Some things never changed. Wear a little leather, biker boots, and a cut, and you were dubbed the bad guy before any questions were asked. "I called for an ambulance, too," I frowned. "Where the hell are they?"

  The cop who'd been conversing softly with Della rose to his feet. "They're on their way." He made eye contact with his partner. "She collaborated his story. Said she doesn't know her attacker."

  Two guys in blue uniforms rolling a stretcher appeared at the door, causing us all to step out of the way.

  "So you said you found her this way, did you see or hear anything before then?" the younger cop asked, taking out a note pad.

  Jesus, I didn't have time for this. I had to find Ginger. "No."

  The older cop's brows suddenly shot up with surprise when he saw Tanner standing behind his partner, as if he’d just noticed him. "What are you doin' here, Tanner?"

  "Deputy Callahan," Tanner acknowledged, before nodding toward me. "Rebel and I are old friends." He crossed his arms, and I could read the mutual respect in their eyes. Tanner's MC, the Sentinels, was the good guys who rode the streets at night helping keep the citizens safe. There were twelve men in his club, all retired vets.

  "Old friends, huh? You can vouch for him?"

  I snorted. I wasn't a good man, but the cop wasn't asking if I was clean or law abiding. He wanted to know if I was honest and could be trusted, if I had morals. I'd always leaned toward the right side of things, even when shit was about as wrong as it could get. I'd killed, but the fuckers that I'd ended had deserved it.

  Tanner nodded without hesitation. "I can."

  The cop nodded in return. "We'll follow the ambulance to the hospital and get a statement from the woman." Della was being lifted onto the stretcher, a neck brace surrounding her neck, whimpering softly.

  "Is she going to be alright?" I asked.

  One of the EMT's made eye contact with me while the other one covered her up. "We won't know the extent of her injuries until we get her to the hospital," he explained. "Just going by what we see I would say yes, but there could be internal injuries."

  I nodded.

  "You sure you don't know anything?" the young cop inquired in a slightly suspicious tone that I didn't like.

  I pinned my gaze on him, and had to give him credit for not looking away. Whether it was because he was too young to know any better, had back up, or the gun on his hip, he was standing his ground. I smirked. "I told you, I found her like this. You think I'm stupid enough to beat a woman bloody and then hang around to call the cops?" Not that I would ever take a hand to a woman.

  "She didn't say anything?" he persisted.

  I ignored him.

  "Let's get to the hospital," Deputy Callahan interjected. "Before they dope her up so much that she doesn't know her own name."

  "Sounds like a good idea to me," I agreed, crossing my arms. I wanted them gone so I could move on to finding Ginger.

  "One more question." I glared at him. His partner released a heavy sigh and glared at him, too. "Just in case we have questions later, what's your name, and how can we reach you?"

  I wasn't going to give him my road name, and I sure as hell wasn't going to tell him that I'd been staying there in that apartment. "The name on my license is Michael Woods."

  "That's two questions," Tanner grinned. "And you can reach him through me."

  "Good enough, now let's move." It was clear that Deputy Callahan had had enough.

  Thank fuck. We walked out ahead of them, and I heard the click of the door that revealed that one of them had pulled Ginger's door closed. Tanner and I walked quietly to where our bikes were parked and watched the police get into their cruiser.

  "Thanks for coming, man," I sai
d when we finally made eye contact. "I knew your club and the police had an understanding. Didn't feel like dealing with shit if it happened. I've got someone to find."

  Tanner nodded in understanding. "Any time, brother. Callahan's alright, but Sanders is a hotshot newbie and likes to make waves. So what's going on?"

  "I found the woman that I was looking for." I'd run into Tanner on Main Street earlier in the week and had told him that I was looking for a girl. I snorted to myself as I remembered that I'd walked up on him fingering a beautiful woman behind One Eye Saloon. "The woman who was just taken to the hospital is her best friend. The guy who beat her took Ginger, and I'm going to get her back."

  "Shit, brother. What do you need from us?"

  I relaxed, knowing that I could count on Tanner and his club. Daytona was his town, and he knew it well. "You did it by showing up, brother. But I'll take you up on your offer. Can you work the streets on a lead where they might have taken her? Della heard them mention something about a man looking for girls."

  "Fuck, a flesh peddler," Tanner stated, his expression serious. "I know that shit goes on, but usually by the time we hear about it the key players have already packed up and left town. Their people remain tight-lipped, because they're paid good money for the girls they find."

  "It’s kind of why I'm in town, for a job that involves a politician's daughter gone missing." I knew that I could trust him not to mention it to the wrong people.

  Tanner's brows shot up at that. "Do I want to know?"

  Again, I shook my head. "You know me, brother. Most of my dealings are with people on the wrong side of the law. I know how you feel about your town," I smirked, mounting my bike. "The Feds are involved in this one."

  "You're working with the Feds?" he asked incredulously.

  "Fuck, no," I scowled. "Just happens they have a raid planned for the same place. We plan to move in earlier to avoid them."

  Tanner grinned knowingly. "You're talking about Marcus Duponte. I have my own sources, brother. The fact that we know what the Feds have planned is the only reason we haven't made a move on him. We don't want his kind of operation in our town."

  "Yeah, it’s about time he got shut down." I started my bike.

  Tanner climbed onto his bike. "Know where to begin looking for your girl?"

  I ground my back teeth, the thought of Ginger in Daryl's hands, being hurt, making me want to destroy something. "I have an idea." I'd have to contact Jace. He had a contact feeding him information about Duponte's activities, which meant that they might have a list of suppliers.

  Tanner nodded. "I'll call my brothers and we'll hit the streets, ask around." He started his bike and turned to head in the opposite direction, throwing his arm up in a wave as he pulled out onto the main road.

  I knew that I could count on him. I pulled out my phone and hit Jace's number, eager to find my woman. My woman. Ginger may not have known it yet, but she was mine. I'd laid claim to her four years ago.

  Daryl was already a dead man, but if he hurt Ginger I was going to make him suffer first.

  I was good at that.

  Chapter 18

  Ginger

  I didn't know where I was. Everything had happened so damned fast. First, they'd pushed me down onto the floorboard of a car, and then we were moving through the streets of Daytona. I remained silent, saving my energy for when I would need it, and estimated that we'd been traveling for about half an hour before we reached our destination.

  From there things got scarier. I was pulled roughly from the car and bound with my arms behind my back with a scratchy piece of rope that Jack had found in the trunk of his car. I was thankful that they hadn't forced me into the trunk of the car, because it looked like a catch all for discarded, smelly junk. Jack had foraged around until he’d found a half roll of duct tape, and slapped a strip of it over my mouth.

  "Don't want you causing us any trouble," he said, giving me a wink.

  "Come on," Daryl snapped, grasping me around the upper arm.

  I took in my surroundings as he pushed me toward a large, white house. It was isolated, located at the edge of a swamp, and overshadowed by huge, ancient cypress trees. The sight of the swamp made me nervous when I thought about the snakes and alligators that made their homes there. It was the perfect place to get rid of a body.

  I stumbled up the porch steps. Daryl knocked loudly on the door, which was answered by a fairly short, round man who quickly showed his disgust at seeing us.

  "What the hell!" His nervous little eyes darted around the area beyond the door, as if he were expecting to see someone else, while he rushed us inside and shut the door. "I don't like people just showing up at my fucking home."

  "We have a proposition for you, Clark." Daryl kept a tight hold on me, ignoring the man's anger. "You got some place we can stash her while we talk business?"

  The man pointed toward a door. "Through there," he grated.

  I was rushed through the room and deposited into a small room that looked like a kind of holding cell. The meager furnishings were shabby and old, nothing like the well cared for, older pieces in the rest of the house. I glanced at the bars over the windows with dread. They weren't for security, they looked more like prison bars, as good for keeping someone in as they were for keeping someone out.

  I put my ear to the door to hear what was happening on the other side. It was hard to hear over the sound of my pounding heart. I could vaguely make out the murmur of voices until the tone changed, and with it the volume. "You idiots! I'm not the only supplier for those auctions, and I don't like doing business here at my private residence!" The voice belonged to Clark.

  "Look, man, I'm sorry but you're the only one I know of who’s involved in this shit, and I need money now! I owe someone, and they're not waiting." Daryl's tone was desperate as he ignored the other man's objections. "You saw her. She's a looker. And with her curves? You could make thousands on her."

  "That was before you told me that she's involved with a biker named Rebel. Bikers don't like when things are taken away from them, especially their women. I've heard of him. He has a real badass reputation. The people I work for wouldn't be pleased if we brought that kind of attention to their organization. They'll kill to remain anonymous."

  "She's not exactly his‒" I heard Daryl begin before he was cut off. I rolled my eyes, because he was too dense to hear the real warning behind Clark's words.

  "He fucking her?" Clark grumbled.

  Silence.

  "You two are assholes," Clark snorted with disdain. "You stole a nomad's woman, and not just any nomad. Who the fuck do you think had a hand in taking out Wildman's club? Huh? Remember hearing about that when it went down four years ago? I heard Rebel went through a lot of fucked up shit while he was undercover, he came out a different man."

  A loud scoff followed his rant. "I don't know about that. I met the dude the other night, man." I could almost see the look of indifference on Daryl's stupid face. He was so desperate for money that he was willing to downplay the danger. "He didn't look so fucking threatening to me."

  Really? He didn't know Rebel, then.

  "That's probably because you were fucked up then, and you're fucked up now, man," Jack snorted. "Shit, man, I should have left both your asses back at the apartment. You're the one who needs the money."

  "Just calm down," I heard Daryl saying. "Look, all I need is a thousand bucks." He said it flippantly, as if he were only asking for ten dollars. "You have the means to get rid of her. I don't care how you do it. No one knows she's with us, so you don't have to worry about fallout."

  "Are you forgetting about your girlfriend?" Jack asked.

  Della! Damn him for bringing her up.

  "So we go back and take care of her," he suggested.

  What?! I didn't like the sound of that. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. How could he so calmly talk about taking care of someone permanently, as if it were nothing? As if she was nothing? They'd had a good relationship in the
beginning, before the drugs had changed him. We had never meshed, but we'd put up with each other for Della's sake.

  "Look, I don't care about your money problems. If you want to take her down to New Mexico I'll get her in our next auction down there, but I can't get rid of her tonight. She doesn't meet the criteria for what our buyers are looking for, and I don't have any way of holding on to her for the next month. When, not if, Rebel comes looking for her, I don't want her anywhere near here. Right now I want you all out of my house."

  Oh, fuck, this wasn't going to bode well for me. Desperate people did desperate things, and Daryl was just that desperate. I looked around the shabby room, unsure of what it was that I was searching for until my gaze landed on the broken edge of the hanging mirror on the wall. Maybe I could use it to cut through the rope they’d used to bind my wrists, but I didn’t know what I would do once I was free. Try to squeeze through the bars on the window? That would be hopeless, but at least if I could get my hands free I'd have a better chance of fighting my way out.

  Before I moved away from the door I turned and fumbled around blindly for the lock, praying that by locking the door it would buy me some time.

  "You're building this all out of proportion, man!" Daryl all but screamed. "What about all the shit you were spewing the other night about how easy it was and how much money could be made? You do this all the time, man!"

  "Under the right circumstances!" Clark shouted back. "You think I have control over this? I'm just one of many. I'm a supplier. I listen to what my associates want, and I carefully pick the merchandise. Most of the girls I get for the people I work for are runaways, orphans, women working the streets who won't be missed. Sometimes they're handed to us on a silver platter because someone just wants them to disappear."

  I heard Daryl make a frustrated sound that came out like something between a growl and a yell. I began sawing back and forth over the jagged edge of the mirror, nicking myself more than once in the process. The pain of the mirror cutting into my flesh barely registered, nor did the feeling of the warm flow of blood that ran over my hands. All I knew was that I needed to get loose.