by Brook Wilder
Chapter 10
“Hatchet! Hatchet, please!” Elsie shrieked, but was muffled when Mad Dog slapped a dirty hand over her mouth.
“Shut up, bitch,” he said. The words were all the more menacing for the lack of emotion in them.
That worried Hatchet more than anything else. He knew Mad Dog was a volatile man. The only time he went calm like this was when it had to do with business. Hatchet knew exactly what this was going to be: just another transaction, and Elsie was just another commodity to be bartered for, priced, and sold. He could feel the nausea rising in his gut but forced himself to follow Jackrabbit and Mad Dog inside the warehouse.
He’d barely made it through the giant, rusty metal doors when Mad Dog’s menacing words hit him.
“… Keep quiet and don’t fight it, sweet cheeks, and this will all go a lot smoother for you.” Mad Dog was practically crooning as he shoved Elsie further inside the abandoned warehouse.
“What… What are you going to do to me?” Elsie stuttered.
Hatchet hated the fear he heard in her voice. He could practically taste it in the air.
“Me? I’m not going to do a damn thing.” Mad Dog pushed her harder than necessary into a darkened corner. “I’m just a business man,” he said amidst the sound of an old chain being dragged on the ground, clinking in time with his every word. “What happens after isn’t my problem. No hard feelings sweet cheeks. It’s just business.”
“No! You bastard! You awful man! Let me go!” Elsie kicked out with her legs, but it was no use. Mad Dog just laughed, grabbed her ankle, and snapped a heavy metal manacle around it.
Elsie’s heart practically stopped when she heard the manacle lock with a click. The other end of the chain was secured to one of the massive wooden beams supporting the building and looked like it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard she struggled.
After he locked her up, Mad Dog leaned close, whispering the words that were still loud enough for Hatchet to hear. “Oh, I’m much worse than awful.”
Elsie turned away, grimacing in fear and disgust, and Hatchet found himself instinctively stepping forward to shove Mad Dog away from her.
A hard grip on his arm stopped him.
“You don’t want to do that, man,” Jackrabbit whispered, soft enough so that only he could hear. “You really, really don’t.”
Hatchet sighed, frustration and guilt eating at him at the same time. Frustration because he knew his friend was right, and guilt because he had delivered Elsie right to into Mad Dog’s hands. He knew what Mad Dog was going to do, and the knowledge was tearing something apart inside him. Something that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to put back together again.
He clenched his jaw tight and heard his teeth grinding together when Mad Dog hooked Elsie’s chin in his grimy hands, yanking her face back until she had no choice but to meet him eye to eye.
“Now, you be good, sweet cheeks, and don’t fucking try anything. You don’t want me to get angry. Bad things happen to pretty girls like you when I get angry. Got it?”
Hatchet watched Elsie try and flinch away but couldn’t, not with Mad Dog’s grip still holding her in place.
“I asked you a question, bitch.” The fake smile started to disappear from Mad Dog’s face. “You answer me when I ask you a question.”
“Y–y–yes. I… I got it.” Elsie forced out the words, her blue eyes wide and shimmering.
Pleased at the answer, Mad Dog’s greasy smile returned, just as slimy as before. “That’s a good girl.” He patted her cheek like a dog.
Hatchet saw the temper flare like a sapphire flame in Elsie’s eyes. He prayed silently that she would be able to hold onto her anger and keep her mouth shut. He held his breath until he finally saw her blink, her shoulders drooping once more. He didn’t let out the sigh of relief until he was certain that she wasn’t going to say anything back to Mad Dog.
Hatchet knew that Mad Dog wasn’t lying. The last thing Elsie needed was to provoke the man’s anger. Mad Dog’s anger was legendary and very few ever lived to experience it a second time.
Mad Dog finally rose to his feet and left the warehouse without a second look, Jackrabbit following close behind him. Hatchet had no choice but to follow them out. He looked back, and his eyes connected with Elsie’s, not letting go until the sliding metal door screeched shut and Jackrabbit took out the key, locking it back up from the outside.
It was a short ride over the Roadburners’ clubhouse on the other side of the cracked parking lot, but the trip there was a blur. Hatchet’s mind was still stuck back in the warehouse, with Elsie, and all that shit that he’d pulled her into.
The big steel door swung open and the raucous clamor inside broke out into the late afternoon air. It wasn’t even night yet, but the club was partying hard already. It didn’t really matter what time it was – day, night, sometimes even first thing in the morning – there were always crew members at the clubhouse, ready to drink themselves stupid.
They walked inside, and Mad Dog was instantly surrounded by a group of large, leather-clad bikers who looked sideways at everybody else. Mad Dog didn’t trust anybody, not even the members of his own crew. And that sort of distrust leaked into his closest associates.
Hatchet cast a glance at Jackrabbit. He was the only man higher up in the ranks who didn’t seem affected by Mad Dog’s paranoia and, sometimes, Hatchet couldn’t help but wonder how different things would be if Rabbit was in charge instead.
The clubhouse was just an overgrown bar, really. The place was rundown and worn to shit, with scratched tables and mismatched chairs scattered around the large space, but no one seemed to notice or care. As mismatched as the furniture was, the people were even more so.
Tall, short. Fat, skinny. Bald, long-haired. It didn’t matter. But every single one of them was loyal to the club, most of them wearing their kutte with the Roadburners’ patch proudly emblazoned on the back.
“Come on, man,” Jackrabbit clapped Hatchet sharply on the back and interrupted his thoughts. “Let me buy you a beer.”
Hatchet nodded mutely, watching as Rabbit shoved his way through the rough crowd to order a pitcher and then walk back in his direction.
“Come on, Hatchet.” Jackrabbit had to shout the words to be heard over the noise. He gestured toward the back corner, away from where most of the crew was. It was quiet and private enough that they could talk without being overheard.
Hatchet remained silent while his friend poured them both a full glass. He took a deep drink from his, hoping the alcohol would dull some of the sharp edges of the emotion still stabbing at him. But, if anything, the alcohol only made it hurt more as it forced his thoughts to keep sliding back to Elsie being chained up in the damned warehouse no more than twenty yards away.
“Shit, Hatchet, I can’t stand this,” Jackrabbit finally said.
They were both thinking about the same thing. And they both knew just how dangerous it was.
“Me neither,” Hatchet sighed, taking another gulp of his beer and finishing half the glass before he put it down with a loud clank that was mostly drowned out by the rumble of the crowded bar. They fell silent again, neither needing to say much. They’d known each other for so long that words almost weren’t necessary. After serving together in Afghanistan, they’d both learned that, sometimes, silence could speak a hell of a lot louder than anything else.
“Damn, I wish Finn was here,” Rabbit spit out suddenly and Hatchet could only shake his head.
“Yeah, well, he’s not.”
“But you know what he would say if he was here.”
Hatchet just rolled his eyes, thinking about the other man that they had both served with, who used to be a member of the Roadburners. The man neither of them had seen in over three months.
“He’d probably say some bullshit about keeping our nose clean and our heads down. But if Finn were here, we wouldn’t have this problem.” And that was the truth. Finn was the one person that Mad Dog had no dirt on, the on
e person that Mad Dog couldn’t control. “But he’s not here. It’s just us, Rabbit. There’s no cavalry. No back up. We’re not the good guys, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember what side we’re on. Do you?” the other man shot back, his dark blue eyes sparking suddenly over his glass of beer. “It’s one thing to steal livestock and shit, but this…” Jackrabbit shook his head in disgust and Hatchet felt an answering pang in his chest. They both knew this wasn’t right. But damned if there was a thing either of them could do. In their world, the President’s word was law. No exceptions.
Hatchet finished off his drink, eagerly refilled the glass, and downed another half of it. Neither of them could afford to go against Mad Dog, but what little of his soul was left wouldn’t let him just sit there and do nothing.
By the time half the pitcher of beer was gone Hatchet still hadn’t come any closer to figuring out what the hell he should do. But one thing was for certain. He couldn’t just let Mad Dag sell the girl. No way. No how.
That’s right, Hatchet! his inner voice shouted. Save her, for chrissake. For once in your life, do the right thing for somebody else instead of just the right thing for yourself. He nodded slowly, turning the words over in his head.
Save her.
He could do that. No, he had to do that. His conscience wouldn’t let him do anything else.
“Rabbit, I have to…”
“About goddamn time,” his friend said. Jackrabbit took a long sip of beer and surreptitiously slid something small and metallic across the table in his direction.
Hatchet swiped up the tiny object. It was a key. It clicked then. It was the key for the warehouse. The key he would need to break Elsie free.
He looked across the table and shared a long, meaningful look with his Jackrabbit. Neither of them said a word. They didn’t have to. There was a perfect understanding between them.
Hatchet nodded and was about to leave the clubhouse when an all too familiar, and damned inconvenient, voice interrupted.
“Well, looksee here. Just the two boys I was looking for,” Mad Dog drawled, leaning in close enough for Hatchet to smell the cheap whiskey he’d been using for mouthwash.
“What do you want, Mad Dog?” Hatchet asked, barely keeping a rein on his temper like he knew he had to. He couldn’t risk Elsie on a stupid moment of anger. He was the only one who could help her now. He was the one who’d gotten her into this mess, and he was determined to be the one to get her out of it.
“Now, is that any way to talk to your beloved President and brother on the road?” Mad Dog drew a slimy smile across his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But now that you mention it, there is a little bit of information I was hoping to gather.”
“Oh? And what might that be?” It was Jackrabbit’s turn to talk. He threw the question out casually, taking another long pull of his beer as they waited for the answer.
For Hatchet, it felt like an eternity as he forced himself to sit there and wait for Mad Dog to get around to whatever the hell it was that he wanted. All Hatchet himself wanted was to get to Elsie and to get her the fuck out of there.
“Well, it’s about that little filly you brought in, Hatchet,” Mad Dog drawled. Hatchet’s dark gaze locked on his, wondering for a brief second if the gruff President had somehow read his thoughts. “I couldn’t help but noticed you seemed, well, a little fond of that girl…”
As Mad Dog trailed off as he leaned forward, resting his meaty hands on the worn and scratched surface of the table, his eye drilling into Hatchet’s.
“Just spit it out, Mad Dog,” Hatchet finally said, growing tired of the games.
“All right.” Mad Dog shrugged nonchalantly, the gesture at odds with the razor-sharp look in his snake-like gaze. “Did you fuck her?”
“What the hell?” Hatchet shouted, startled by the unexpected question and rose to his feet as a haze of anger had him seeing red. “What fucking business is that of yours?”
“Simple business, Hatchet. Don’t get your panties in a twist. Truthfully, I don’t give a fuck if you fucked her or not. But the thing is,” Mad Dog said as he shrugged again, “virgins are worth more.”
Hatchet knew Mad Dog was trying to provoke a reaction out of him, and damned if he was going to let the bastard get one. He forced himself to take a deep breath and without saying another word, turned and stalked out of the clubhouse. Mad Dog’s hoarse laughter followed him until he was all the way outside.
Once he was out, he just kept moving, one foot in front of the other. He knew without a doubt, exactly where he was going. Without a backwards glance, Hatchet walked over towards the warehouse. He did a quick check around the perimeter to make sure no one else was there. Mad Dog hadn’t even bothered to put any guards out. It was only one, small woman chained to the barn. Hardly warrant someone to watch her. But Mad Dog hadn’t counted on Hatchet. Hell, Hatchet didn’t even know himself what he planned. He just knew he had to do something.
Quickly, Hatchet unlocked the door to the warehouse with the key Rabbit had given him. As quietly as he could, he pushed the door open just enough to slide through and blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust to the darkness inside.
That was when he heard it. Elsie’s panicked breathing and the slight rattle of the chain. He moved in the direction of the sound, blinking to help his eyes adjust. By the time he reached the far corner that she was tucked in, he could just make out her silhouette in the shadows. He lowered himself, squatting as he reached one hand out towards her.
“H–Hatchet? Is… Is that you?” Elsie asked softly, hesitantly.
He hated the tremor that shook her voice. “Come on, Elsie,” he finally said, his words falling heavily into the thick silence of the warehouse. “I’m getting you the hell out of here.”
Chapter 11
“Hatchet, is that really you?” Elsie forced out the words, repeating her question as her fingers tightened around a small, rusty garden shovel she’d found and hidden behind her back.
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here,” the figure, more shadow than man, replied gruffly.
Elsie felt her whole body collapse with relief when she heard his familiar voice. The fear that had flooded her when the warehouse door squeaked open faded, but the coppery taste of terror in her mouth remained. She had to swallow hard to speak again.
“Wh–What are you doing here? I thought…”
“Listen, darling, plan’s changed, okay?” Hatchet said softly, not looking at her as he came closer to inspect the length of chain that still held her bound. “What is it that people say? Don’t look a gift hippo in the mouth?”
Elsie let out a soft laugh. “It’s a horse. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” Hatchet was close enough for her to make out his achingly handsome features. She drank in his visage, from the sharp angular lines of his face to the smile curving up one side of his mouth.
“Yeah, I knew that,” he replied.
There was a still, sweet moment between them. But, by the next, Hatchet was cursing again.
“Damn it, we gotta figure out a way to get this chain off.” He was talking more to himself than to her. Elsie shrugged, reluctantly pulling out small gardening shovel and holding it out for him.
“Will this help?”
“What is that?” Hatchet said as he lifted it from her palm, holding it close to his face to inspect it before handing it back. “Planning on shoveling someone to death?”
“It was the only thing I could find, okay?” Elsie huffed, fighting the smile that threatened to break out across her face.
“Really, though, what were you going to do with this little thing?”
Elsie just shrugged. “Whatever I had to.”
“You surprise me, Elsie,” Hatchet said softly, his tone growing serious and his dark eyes burning through the darkness into hers. “For someone who looks like a porcelain doll… well, let’s just say you’re stronger than you look.”
She suddenly found herself fighting past a lump of emotio
n that had lodged itself in her throat and would have to swallow down again before it made her say something really stupid. Like that she cared about him. Like that, despite everything that had happened, she was terrified she was falling for him. Instead, she cleared her throat, blinking away the tiny drop of moisture from the corner of her eye.
“Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she finally said, her voice still quivering with emotion.
