Down & Dirty: Linc (Dirty Angels MC Book 9)

by Jeanne St. James

Which meant they weren’t watching her.

  She bound to her feet and surged forward in the direction of the exit. Stooge Three stepped in her way to block her, and using all her strength, she shoved him hard and scooted to the right, barely avoiding his grasp.

  Then Stooge One tackled her from behind. When she fell forward and hit the floor all the air rushed from her lungs.

  She gasped, trying to catch her breath, but she couldn’t. Even though he was tall and skinny, he weighed more than her and used that weight to pin her down to the ground. She did her best to flip around in an attempt to knock him off her, but it was useless. Trying another tactic, she used her hands and feet to pull herself along the floor toward the door. But Stooge One was screaming at her to stop and ordering the other two to help grab her and hold her down.

  There was no way she’d be able to escape all three of them pinning her in place.

  She eyeballed the door of the shed. It wasn’t that far. Only about ten feet. She needed to fight her way to it. She needed to get the hell out of this shed before Scratch and maybe even more Warriors arrived.

  She gritted her teeth and surged upward, trying to knock the oldest one off of her. But just when she was making headway, one of his brothers sat on her legs and the other snagged one of her wrists.

  Fuck!

  She wanted to cry with the futility of it all. But she couldn’t. She needed to stay strong, needed to stay mad and not give up.

  She couldn’t give up. She had an unborn child to protect.

  “You’re all dead. Dead! They’ll kill your uncle when they rescue me and then come back and kill you all. All of you. Your pop won’t have a single son left to carry on his name. Dead! All of you!”

  Stooge One laughed. “No one even knows where you are, stupid bitch. Just us and Scratch. No one’s going to find you or rescue you. And for a thousand bucks, I couldn’t give a shit what my uncle and his MC does to you.”

  She tried to keep her voice level. “You will.”

  “Doubt that. Tie her up,” he ordered again, sitting on the small of her back, grabbing both wrists and yanking her arms behind her. “I’ll hold her, you tie.”

  “No!” Jayde screamed, struggling even harder.

  By some miracle she was able to pry one hand loose. She swung her arm until her hand struck one of them. She curved her fingers and clawed down his cheek, ripping it open, drawing blood and screams as he released her.

  She swung again and made impact with another one. She closed her fist and began to beat him wherever she could make contact. Finally, figuring out where his most sensitive parts were, she used all her strength to punch him in the groin as hard as she could.

  More screams. A little more freedom.

  She twisted her body as hard as she could. It was now or never. Stooge One, who was scrambling to get a hold of her arms again, was thrown off balance and he fell to the side. She pulled in her knee then kicked him as hard as she could in the gut. He collapsed onto his side with a howl.

  She was free! She twisted again, rising to her hands and knees. All she had to do was crawl out of there before they could grab her again.

  She could do this. This was life or death.

  Panting and trying to gather strength, she pulled herself toward the door. She could see the daylight coming from underneath it. She could smell freedom.

  Then an impact hit her so hard she lost her breath once again. Then another. And another.

  Someone was kicking her. No, not someone...

  All of them.

  She dropped to the ground, curled into herself, wrapping her arms around her middle, trying to protect her stomach.

  “No! No. Please... No! Don’t! Not my stomach. Don’t... Please!” But no matter how much she begged, no matter how much she fought to protect her belly, the kicks kept coming.

  She could no longer hear anything except for her own endless pleas, she could no longer see anything through her tears. Her body throbbed in every spot they made contact. Dizziness swirled through her and she pulled her knees tighter into her chest.

  She was going to be all right. They were going to be all right.

  It wasn’t going to end like this. It couldn’t.

  But all Jayde could do at that point was try to continue to breathe. Grit her teeth against the sharp pains that shot through her. Her chest. Her belly. Her back. Her ribs.

  Then cramps twisted her insides. Warm fluid slipped from between her legs. But she couldn’t move.

  She wasn’t sure when the kicking ended because she floated in and out of consciousness. It could’ve been seconds, minutes or hours later when she heard a gruff voice say from a distance, “Why she got blood down there? You rape ‘er?”

  Helplessness and hopelessness swept through her, bogged her down as her sobbing became unstoppable.

  Scratch had arrived.

  Chapter Thirteen

  More men. A flash of a furious face. Strange noises. Grunts. Thumps. Scrambling.

  Bits and pieces washed in and out of her consciousness.

  Then voices. Deep. Pissed. Worried.

  That couldn’t be good.

  Multiple conversations at once spun in her brain.

  “Boss... yeah... found her...”

  “Z... got her.”

  “Needs medical. Have him meet her at the hospital.”

  She tried hard to lift her heavy eyelids. She cracked one open long enough to see Mercy kneeling by her side, pressing his fingers to her wrist. His face, normally severe, was savage.

  “B—baby,” she managed to get out. Though, even that was a struggle due to the pain in her jaw and ribs.

  His eyes met hers and he only grunted. He lifted his scarred face, jerked his chin and said, “Steel assigned transport. Get on it quick.”

  “PD en route.”

  “Right. Leave those three motherfuckers for them. Take the Warrior.”

  “Copy that.”

  Someone scooped her up and stood. She cried out because everything hurt so badly. She was broken.

  Completely shattered.

  No doctor could fix that.

  “Sorry, baby. Know it hurts. Just hang on. Gotta carry you.”

  She pressed her face into whoever’s chest she was being held against and began to cry all over again.

  Her eyes popped open at the sound of a hair-raising howl down the hallway. Whoever it was sounded like their world just came to an end.

  She knew the feeling.

  But Jayde also knew whoever it was, it wasn’t Linc.

  Definitely not Linc.

  No, because Linc’s furious voice could be heard outside her hospital room door. “Going the fuck in there!”

  And her father’s equally furious answer, “You’re not going anywhere near her! This whole thing is over.”

  “Bull-fuckin’-shit! We live together.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Honey,” she heard her mother say. “Let him go in for a few minutes. Let him see she’s okay.”

  “She’s not okay.” Her father’s voice broke, which tore at Jayde’s heart even more. Her father was so strong and stubborn, and for him to break... “And now there’s no reason for him to even be near her.”

  “Dad, let him in.” Axel.

  “Have you lost your fucking mind, son? Ever since—”

  “Don’t,” Axel’s response was as sharp as a shard of glass before turning thick with pure grief. “Just don’t. Not here. Not now. Let him in.”

  There was a shuffling outside the door, then it opened. That’s when she realized her eyes were squeezed shut and one of her hands shakily covered her mouth.

  A squeal of a chair filled the room as someone pulled it close to the bed. Then that someone was holding her hand. A forehead was pressed to her shoulder and warm breath swept over her.

  Someone.

  Linc.

  He was simply there. Quiet. Unmoving.

  A presence she should find soothing, but she wasn’t sure if she did. />
  The room swirled with sorrow, regret and anger. So thick, she could taste it on her tongue, feel it against her skin. It crept along her spine, burrowed into her center.

  She lifted her bruised hand with the needle stuck in it and lightly touched his hair. When he lifted his head, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  His green eyes were haunted, his expression tortured. Seeing that made her insides hurt more than they already did. The ache in her heart became even more unbearable.

  He hadn’t wanted the baby at first. But he now mourned.

  His eyes, his face, the curve of his normally broad shoulders showed her that this had wrecked him.

  She wanted to cry for him, but she couldn’t. She was empty and no longer had any tears left to shed.

  “Got nothing to be sorry about, baby. Did nothing wrong. It was me. I fucked up. I’m the one who’s sorry. You don’t... You don’t know how sorry I am.”

  He was feeling guilty about being late. While she could understand that, he needed to know it wasn’t his fault, either.

  It was just bad timing. Bad luck. Bad... everything.

  Her voice quivered uncontrollably when she told him, “I did my best to protect him...”

  Their unborn son.

  During one of her conscious moments she had demanded to know and they reluctantly told her.

  He squeezed her hand tighter. “Know it, Jayde. Don’t doubt that for a fuckin’ second. Can see what they did to you. Know you did everything you could do to protect yourself. Protect him. I fucked up.”

  “No—”

  “Shoulda been there on time. Shoulda been there to save you. My job to protect you. Didn’t... Couldn’t do any of those things. Failed you. Failed our son. Failed your family...” He choked on his next words. “Failed our family.”

  His words of defeat ripped what pieces remained of her broken heart right out of her chest.

  “Always late. No excuse. Just a fuck up.”

  “Linc...”

  He pressed his forehead to their clasped hands. “So fuckin’ sorry, Jayde. Don’t know how to fix this, make it better. Don’t know what to fuckin’ do.”

  She didn’t know what to tell him, what to say... because she didn’t have any answers. Even if she did, it wouldn’t change a thing.

  She tried to swallow, but her mouth tasted like it was full of sawdust. “How... How did they find me?”

  He shot a glance toward the door before lowering his voice. “Turns out D’s crew’s been trailing that Warrior since the fucker lives local. Tailing him to find more of the nomads. Luckily, one of them jumped on his tail when they heard you were missing. Fucker led them right to that barn. To you.” He blew out a breath. “Thank fuck for that, but... I couldn’t even fuckin’ be the one to find you.”

  Linc’s explanation circled her brain. How ironic that a Warrior helped save her in an around-about way. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

  He ignored that, and his gaze roamed over her, though he couldn’t see much of her. He couldn’t see most of the bruises or the binding that wrapped her ribs since she had a sheet pulled up to her armpits. But it was hard to miss when his gaze paused on her belly, on the slight curve that remained as a reminder of what was lost.

  A place in her that had been full of life, now...

  Was not.

  His voice was thin when he asked, “How you feeling?”

  “Tired.” That was a simple answer to a complex question since she was feeling a lot of things. Too many to want to recognize or admit to.

  “Pain?”

  She didn’t know where to begin to explain to him the pain she was experiencing. But he meant physical pain, so she simply shook her head. “Not much anymore. Strong pain meds...”

  He glanced up at the morphine drip. “Yeah.” Clearing his throat, he shifted in his seat and whispered, “Jayde...”

  She lifted her free hand and shook her head slightly, closing her eyes to the undeniable agony in his.

  They’ve never declared love for each other, so now they could go their separate ways. She could continue on her original path; he could continue on his.

  Nothing tied them together any more.

  He had no reason to stick around. The only reason he did so no longer existed.

  “Jayde...”

  “No, don’t. You don’t need to step up anymore when I know you didn’t want to in the first place. You’re free, Linc. We made a mistake. The mistake was erased. And now we’re back to where we were before that night.”

  We made a mistake. The mistake was erased.

  The mistake was erased.

  The mistake was erased?

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  She didn’t want to be with him now that the baby was gone?

  His fingers twitched in hers. “No... Jayde... that’s not—”

  The door opening behind him made Linc sit up and shut up. He groaned under his breath when he saw it was not only Jayde’s mother, April, coming in, but Mitch.

  Fuck me.

  Jayde twisted her fingers out of his grip and put her hands back on the bed. She avoided Linc’s eyes, instead keeping them on her father.

  April rushed over. “I couldn’t stand outside in the hallway anymore, Linc. Sorry, honey.” She moved next to his chair, touching the top of his head lightly, then touching Jayde’s cheek with a gentle, but sad smile on her face.

  April was a good woman even though she was married to a stubborn asshole. She raised three good kids. She loved and accepted them no matter what, even if she had to keep one of them at a distance to keep the peace with her husband.

  Linc stood up and offered his seat to her, which she accepted with a quick squeeze to his hand.

  Jayde’s gaze dropped from her father’s hard expression to her mother. April’s eyes were shadowed and red-rimmed, her face pale. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail.

  “Mom, who was out there yelling?”

  April turned her troubled brown eyes toward the closed door and frowned. “Diesel’s on a tear right now, sweetie.”

  “He okay?”

  April shook her head, worrying her bottom lip. “I don’t know. He left.”

  Shit.

  “Probably will do something stupid and get his ass in a bind,” Mitch grumbled.

  Linc stiffened and turned on him. “Why do you even fuckin’ care? You don’t give a shit about anybody in the club.”

  Mitch’s nostrils flared, and his jaw tightened.

  “Not even your own fuckin’ son. Not even your grandson.”

  Mitch held his gaze and didn’t even have the decency to look away or be embarrassed about how he treated his own son.

  “Linc...” Jayde whispered.

  “Woulda been the same with me and my son.” He heard a strangled noise behind him but ignored it. “You forget the DAMC’s in your blood, too. You act all high and fuckin’ mighty. You—”

  Mitch pointed a finger at the bed. “See what happens being a part of the DAMC? Need I remind you who else suffered besides Jayde because of being a part of your club?”

  No, Linc didn’t need a reminder. He knew.

  Mitch continued, “My daughter’s laying in a hospital bed right now, injured, in pain, suffering with a major loss because of that club.”

  “And you’re probably happy ‘bout that last part.”

  April sucked in a sharp breath.

  “No, Dad, it had nothing to do with—” Jayde started, but Mitch cut her off.

  “She dodged a bullet,” Mitch stated, staring straight at Linc.

  She dodged a bullet?

  A chill seeped into Linc’s bones, froze every sinew of muscle.

  Was he saying she was lucky she lost his child?

  He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. He wasn’t sure if he could take a breath. Or whether his heart even continued to beat.

  Mitch’s shoulders were squared off, stiff, pulled back and he was ready for Linc to come at him.

&nb
sp; The man expected a reaction from Linc. He wanted to make a point. Mitch wanted to prove to himself, or Jayde, or even April, that Linc wasn’t worthy, that he was just a biker with base instincts. That he couldn’t think with his head, just with his fists.

  Linc’s gaze slid to Jayde as she lay in that hospital bed. Her face ghost white, her eyes wide and red, a single tear slipping down her cheek, the sheets held in a death grip within her fingers.

  But it was her mouth that caught his attention. It didn’t quiver. Not once. She kept her lips pressed together firmly. The woman had just been through hell and back and she was doing her best not to shatter.

  Because of that, she didn’t need the father of her lost baby fighting with her own father.

  Not now. Not ever.

  With a nod, he pushed past Mitch and walked out of the room. Walked straight out of the hospital.

  And he didn’t stop walking.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Linc stared at the fridge, the black and white images stuck with magnets to the door. His nostrils flared, and he swallowed hard since his throat felt like it was closing up. He wasn’t going to lose it. He wasn’t going to break down.

  He needed to remain strong while he removed the reminders of what could have been.

  He braced himself as he slowly, and with care, removed the images one by one, unsure of what to do with them. He glanced at the garbage can nearby, but he couldn’t make himself do it. He couldn’t just throw them away like they had meant nothing.

  Because they had. They meant more to him than what Jayde probably realized.

  He should’ve told her just how much.

  But he didn’t. Again, he fucked up.

  He slipped them into an opening he’d sliced into the lining of his cut, then moved to the bedroom. His eyes were immediately drawn to the crib in the corner. The one he insisted on putting together instead of the delivery guys. He had wanted his own hands to assemble the place his son would sleep. It had taken him longer than expected but it had been worth it.

  Especially when Jayde had sat on the bed with the instructions in her hand, laughing at his lack of skill with a screwdriver. But he showed her. He finished it and it hadn’t fallen apart. Then he had tackled her on the bed, making her laughter turn into a squeal, then moans and sighs.