He hated surprises, especially in his line of work. Mitch had fooled him. Did Cass know? Had she been lying to him? Was she in on this? Was Mitch’s supposed hatred of Stonewall, and wanting Storm and Cass to stay away from the club all a lie?
That would explain the business of stolen bikes and parts. No way would Stonewall be that intelligent. The man was cunning, but he was more into the here and now, and wasn’t much for thinking ahead. It had to be Mitch’s idea, as demonstrated by the planning behind using the wheelchair to hide in plain sight. But for what purpose?
Thorn believed life to be all gray, that there was no true black and white. He’d seen too many criminals help others who had been beaten down by life, while “good” people turned their backs on the needy. He also realized everyone lied at one time or another, even to themselves, but he could usually tell when they were pulling a fast one on him.
Thorn looked around, expecting Cass to walk into the room or jump up from behind the desk and shout, “You’ve been punked!”
Stonewall joined in on Mitch’s howling laughter. Faces red, they pointed at Thorn, shook their heads, and slapped each other on the back.
“Sorry about that, boy. The wheelchair wasn’t entirely a deception. A few years ago, an asshole pulled out in front of me. Claimed he hadn’t seen me. I sued his scrawny, rich ass and won a great settlement. I had my doc swear, for a portion of the settlement money, that I would never walk again. It’s necessary to keep it from everyone until the last payment comes in. That is, except Janet. Hard to lie to the woman. Hell, after a few months of Janet helping me with the physical therapy, I was back on my feet. Having the authorities believing I couldn’t walk paid off more than once. It’s amazing how the law don’t watch a disabled biker. People believe crippled body equals crippled mind. It’s bullshit, but it comes in handy.” Mitch walked around his wheelchair.
Thorn noticed a slight limp.
“That’s right. I don’t have a smooth gait, but I can still kick your ass if I need to.” He placed his arm over Thorn’s shoulders. “Stonewall here vouched for you. Said we could use some of your connections.”
“My connections?”
“Your family’s connections, that is. Stonewall and your uncle Trick had a bit of a falling out. You might want to check on your uncle at the hospital later.” He chuckled and slapped Thorn’s back. “So we’ve been thinking, you can contact your relative in Atlanta about letting us deal direct with his organization.” Mitch squeezed his shoulder and stepped away.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Trick had become greedy and argued with Stonewall. Then the two wily old men standing in front of him wanted to cut out the middleman and go directly to his great-uncle. Mikolas Savalas was a mean son of a bitch and one of many relatives Thorn avoided. Yes, he was a cop, but there were some blurred lines he didn’t dare cross. Too easy to get caught up in their webs and find himself in deeper shit than the one he was in at the moment.
Besides, Thorn was not shocked Trick had found a way to tap into the richer half of the Savalas family. All his life, he’d heard Trick complain about how successful Mikolas was in the stolen-property business.
With an idea percolating in the back of his mind, he asked, “Why don’t you contact Mikolas yourself and handle it without Trick?”
“We tried to meet him, but the man won’t talk with us.” Stonewall frowned. “Why the fuck do you think we need you?”
Mitch glared at Stonewall and the other man turned and pretended interest in some papers on the desk.
“So you never met him?” That would be perfect for what Thorn needed. No way in hell would he ever introduce these men to his great-uncle. He doubted if the old man even remembered him, great-nephew or not. The last time he’d seen the mobster, Thorn’s parents had been alive. Mikolas did an excellent job of staying out of the news.
“No.” Mitch narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
Thinking fast, he answered with the truth, “Just wondered. He usually sends a lackey. The man’s smart enough not to deal directly with the goods.”
Stonewall nodded. “I can see that. Except for a couple yahoos in a truck, we never see anyone who acts as if they’re in control.”
“Do you have enough to set up a run?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
“You don’t need to know that yet. Once you make contact and ensure that Savalas can take the goods, we’ll let you know where to pick it up.” Mitch stared hard.
Sensing Mitch couldn’t be pressed further, Thorn said, “Let me call my good old great-uncle Mikolas tomorrow and set it up.”
“Why not tonight?” Stonewall’s lower jaw bulged out.
Mitch jabbed Stonewall’s shoulder. “Because it’s later over there. We got time. Thorn will let us know tomorrow.” He turned back to Thorn. “Isn’t that right?”
Before he received an answer, Mitch nodded. Stonewall pressed something beneath the edge of the desk. Mitch returned to his wheelchair at the same time the door opened.
A couple of tense moments later, Mac walked in with Cass, tugging her along by the upper arm. Gagged, hands tied behind her back, she struggled, but the big man had no problem keeping her in line. When she tried to kick, he twisted her arms up. Her muffled scream brought Thorn around, fists ready to throw a line drive to the man’s gut. At that moment, Thorn heard the click of a weapon being cocked. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was Mitch and his shotgun.
Stonewall chuckled. “We want to keep a close eye on you. Plus we thought you might like your wife-to-be with you. Remind you of why you’re doing this.”
The confused look on Cass’s face brought a wave of relief. Despite appearances, he was afraid she might be part of the setup.
“Hell, no. Don’t start this, Stonewall. Isn’t it bad enough you forced us to hook up?” He’d said it so harshly, he realized how it would sound to Cass. Her pale face revealed nothing, except for her eyes. They were flat, without the usual fiery sparks shinning out of them.
He braced himself. Hurting her had not been his intention. They didn’t need to know how much she meant to him.
—
Thorn could fuck himself. That was who he loved anyway.
Cassidy had heard enough. Her heart had stopped when she heard wife come out of Stonewall’s mouth, and he looked at her, but it was Thorn’s response that broke it.
Isn’t it bad enough you forced us to hook up?
The words were not as horrible as the way he’d sneered each syllable. As though he’d been miserable touching her.
She slowly inhaled through her nose, and the smell of male sweat, marijuana smoke, and dust was strangely calming, reminding her of what was familiar.
She had to give him a chance to explain. Maybe later, when they were alone. Jumping to conclusions wouldn’t answer her questions, only start an argument. He probably had a reasonable explanation. She hoped.
His gaze remained straight ahead after the first attempt to save her.
“Hello, Cassidy.”
She jerked her attention from Thorn to her foster father behind the desk. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to the Skull and Bones. Her gaze dropped down to the shotgun sitting on top of the desk’s flat surface.
Oh, my God! He figured out Thorn was working undercover.
She struggled with her restraints and shook her head, hoping to loosen their secure grip. Instead, the rope and cloth tightened, rubbing her skin raw. She had to stop Mitch.
The door opened behind her and Storm walked in, followed by Wolf. Bullhead and Jabber pushed the two to stand next to the wall.
Storm looked over at Cassidy and stepped toward Mac. “Let her go! I don’t know what that asshole told you, but she’d never do anything to hurt the club.”
Bullhead clasped Storm’s upper arm and lifted, cuffed the side of his head, and pulled her brother back on his tiptoes. “Stay here,” he said, as if speaking to a dog.
Stonewall chuckled
and then ordered, “Storm and Wolf, you’re going to help us with a little bit of business.” He explained they were to follow Jabber to the clubhouse’s basement, sort out boxes and crates stuck in the bowels of the building, load up an old panel truck that Stonewall owned, and wait for instructions the next night.
“I’m not going anywhere until you release my sister.” Storm’s mulish expression warned that he meant what he said.
Stonewall leaned down and whispered into Mitch’s ear. Bushy eyebrows shot up before her foster father nodded.
“Mac, Bubba, take these two boys and the girl to the clubhouse. Let Thorn keep his phone. He’ll need it to call his family.” Stonewall turned to Thorn. “You can follow on your bike. No detours or your old lady could be keeping me company.” His evil grin grew bigger. Her stomach wanted to rebel. “Don’t mess this up. We’ll move the merchandise during the old ladies’ party tomorrow night.”
It made sense. They apparently suspected they were being watched. Anyone would think all the extra comings and goings had to do with the party. That explained why Stonewall had okayed holding the party at the clubhouse. She couldn’t remember ever having heard of it happening before. Bachelor parties, yes. Bachelorette, no.
Mac shoved her into the back of the panel truck with Wolf and Storm. Off balance, she landed face-first, as her hands were still tied behind her back. She scraped her nose and one cheek, and they burned from the friction.
“Bastard!” Storm elbowed his way to her side. “Sis, are you okay?” He untied her hands and then helped her sit on the grooved, metal floor.
As soon as she pulled the gag out of her mouth, she said, “Some scratches and a little sore, but okay. Where’s Thorn?” Shifting her stiff jaw back and forth, she massaged the tender skin at the corners and gingerly touched the abrasions.
Wolf settled on the other side of her. “He’s on his bike, following behind.”
“This is all his fault. He should have stayed away from you.” Storm punched the side of the van. “Why him? What happened to you saying that the Brothers of Mayhem were scum of the earth? If you’d listened to me and let me be, you wouldn’t be here.”
“So it’s okay for you? I won’t be able to help you when the police haul you away.” How could she tell her brother without giving Thorn’s identity away? She wanted to tell him, wanted to warn him to stay away, but he wouldn’t listen unless she told him the truth.
Oh, brother dearest, my lover is a cop and will throw your ass in jail with the other Brothers.
“You sound like you’re certain,” Wolf said, and she glanced over at him. If his brother hadn’t told him the truth, how could she jeopardize Thorn’s life by telling her own brother? Besides, she’d promised to keep Thorn’s secret. She didn’t break promises. Talk about split loyalties.
Realizing they were eying her suspiciously, she simply said, “I’ve been warning you about that ever since I caught you hanging around the Skull and Bones.”
“Mitch never really had a problem with it. It was only you who nagged me.” Storm crossed his arms, his long legs stretched out on the floor, and leaned back against the side of the truck.
Tempted to slap her brother on the back of his head, Cassidy pulled up her knees and wrapped tired arms around her legs. Resting a cheek on her knees, she watched him. He was right. Mitch acted as if it was nothing unusual for him to be there. For years, he’d bad-mouthed Stonewall. Had it been an act? Why was it so important for them to hide everything from her? All of it showed how little she meant to them. Pressing the heels of her palms against her temple, she hoped the pounding in her head would ease up.
Storm slapped the side of the van again in his frustration.
Unable to hold it back any longer, she said in a soft voice, “Just be smart and don’t do anything that can get you in trouble. Please.”
Having forgotten about Thorn’s brother, she jumped when Wolf said, “Hey, man, you’re lucky to have a sibling who cares enough about you to stick around. My brother left as soon as he graduated from high school and joined the Army. He never called home to check on me or anything. Even when he came back, I could’ve been dead and he wouldn’t even know it.” The unspoken words “He didn’t care” hung in the air. He blushed, as if he’d realized how much he’d revealed, and his gaze shifted back to his boots. He didn’t say another word during the drive back to the clubhouse.
Such a cloud of sadness hung over the younger version of Thorn sitting near her. She wished she could help. But how? She couldn’t even help herself.
Worried about Thorn, she carefully stood, leaning on the side of the van to keep her balance. She looked out a little window in the back door. On his motorcycle, Thorn followed with Bubba riding alongside. Just then, Jabber and Twofer roared up behind them.
Thorn’s face was hidden beneath the helmet, and the circles of white beneath the streetlights merely deepened the shadows as each one flashed by. His body slumped, and with one hand on the handlebars and the other resting on a thigh, he appeared relaxed, settled in for a long ride. Yet she felt his focus on her, tense and angry.
Deep inside, her tension fell away. For the first time in her life someone cared what happened to her. He wouldn’t let them hurt her. Or he’d die trying to keep her safe.
Chapter 19
Thorn nursed his second beer, and whenever they handed the joint to him, he passed it on without the Brothers noticing he hadn’t taken a toke. Jabber and Bubba, big NASCAR fans, hollered at the TV mounted above the bar as they watched a replay of the big race held the Sunday before at Talladega.
For the last two hours, they’d waited for Stonewall. Thorn had been allowed one phone call, supposedly to his great-uncle Mikolas. While they stood around and listened, he called Harper and pretended to talk to the patriarch of the Savalas family. Why in hell did they think he knew the old bastard’s phone number? Thorn was a second nephew, once removed, or something stupid like that. Harper had caught on quickly, and the final showdown was scheduled to happen as soon as the women left their party.
So Thorn watched the race, while Jabber, Bubba, and Mac drank beer and smoked pot. Whenever he tried to move toward the steps and the room Cass was locked in, they blocked his way and ordered him to stay put on a barstool.
“You asshole, Junior can outdrive that old fart, Stewart!” Bubba sloshed his drink using it to point at the screen.
“What in the hell are you talking about, old fart? He ain’t old! He’s experienced and a fucking great driver.” Jabber shot a bird at the bigger man.
“He don’t have the blood. My gramps said with a granddaddy and daddy like Junior’s he couldn’t do nothing but win races. He’ll win this one.”
“My money’s on Stewart!” Jabber picked up another beer and popped the tab.
“Hey, dumb-asses. This was last weekend’s race. Junior won.” Thorn shook his head.
“You’re lying! It rained. They delayed the race.” After a long swig from the can, Jabber crunched the sides and threw it on the floor.
With a quick sidestep, Thorn missed Jabber’s fist. Nerves wound tight and fed up with being kept from Cass, he slammed a fist into Jabber’s stomach. The man wheezed.
Just as Thorn caught movement out of the corner of his eye, Stonewall disappearing up the steps, Jabber plowed a right into the side of Thorn’s head.
The lucky blow dimmed the room as he shouted, “No,” and sunk to the floor.
—
“Is Thorn okay?”
Cassidy stopped pacing and turned toward the door when it opened. Expecting Thorn, she had moved closer but stopped when she saw it was Stonewall. He appeared out of breath, as if he’d rushed up the stairs.
“Don’t worry about your old man. He can take care of himself.” His eye drooped more than usual, giving him a drunken look. Those dark, cruel eyes stripped her where she stood.
She wanted to move away and cross her arms over her breasts, but refused to give him the satisfaction. From what she’d learned, he
loved scaring women. He fed off their fear.
It appeared he’d been biding his time. Waiting for Thorn to tire of her or be out of pocket. Her foster father had given him the opportunity he’d been waiting for. When had Mitch changed so much? Or had she known it deep inside all these years. She never felt comfortable around him. He never acted like he cared for her much. She’d been a means to control Storm. But why?
“If you touch me, Thorn will make sure you’ll regret it,” she warned him.
Stonewall’s evil laugh brought chill bumps to her arms.
“He sent me here to take care of you.” He edged up closer.
Coldness spread over her. Was it Rocky all over again?
Then she came to her senses. Thorn would never do such a thing. Glancing around, she hoped there’d be a weapon in easy reach, but Stonewall took advantage of her divided attention and pounced.
With one hand in her hair, he squeezed a breast with the other until pain shot into her and she cried out. He flattened her against the wall. Air swooshed out of her lungs. Before she could regain her breath and voice, his knee thrust between her legs, and his groin began humping. She inhaled and then let loose a hair-raising scream.
“Shut the fuck up.” Stonewall backhanded her and then tossed her toward the bed. She landed on it with her feet dangling over the edge. “This will be over quick, slut. Or I could get Bubba and Jabber up here. I heard you like them to line up and fuck you good. So don’t act like you’ve never been shared before.”
His mouth covered hers. The sound of material ripping froze her for a second. Air brushed her breasts as he jerked down her bra. A sick feeling sent panic racing through her body. She fought him and the overwhelming hysteria that wasn’t helping matters. She bit his tongue. He leaned back and slapped her again. Her teeth cut into the inside of her cheek from the force of the blow, and blood pooled in her mouth.
“Bitch.”
“Let me go, bastard!”
Kicking her feet, she felt more than a little satisfaction when he grunted. Pulling on his greasy hair, she continued to twist her body and fight with every bit of strength she possessed. His hands wrapped around her throat. As he tightened his hold she saw stars and her body went limp. She felt lighter, as if she could float, and all the pain was outside her body, as she started to black out.
Hidden Heat (Brothers of Mayhem #1) Page 17
