Confession

by Garrett, Jamie

  She was no touching allowed, at least until they figured out what her real story was. Levi would have his head, and probably his role in the club, too, if he knew what had gone down already. He couldn’t get his dick wet again until he’d figured out Nikki’s story, at least not with her. But ever since throwing her over his shoulder like a damn caveman, she was the only woman occupying both his thoughts and his arousal. Yep, he was totally fucked.

  As he’d sped along the highway, the images had merged with others; both real and imagined. Fantasies of fucking Nikki tied to his bed merged with images of her bound and captive, stripped and tied down to the filthy mattress he’d found at the warehouse. The thought gave him chills. His skin broke out in goose bumps despite the heat of the day still lingering, and his semi-hard cock deflated. He’d revved his bike, zooming faster than was legal along the asphalt and leaving Doc in his wake. His mind whirled, flashes of Nikki writhing in pleasure mixing and swirling with her writhing again, but in pain from the Jokers’ obscene desire.

  Did they actually get off on what they did? Seth was no saint, not by a long shot, but anyone who treated women with anything other than the utmost respect got absolutely none from him. When fantasies of his own on what had happened to the dead Joker they’d found on the highway joined in, it was a wonder he hadn’t wrecked his damn bike. Nikki was his to protect, and anyone who laid a hand on her—Joker or even one of the Kings—would be sorry.

  The gates at the entrance to the compound swung open as he approached. Now all Seth had to do was get his fucking head on straight and then make a report to Levi that wouldn’t end up in bloodshed, probably his. But first, he was going to check on Nikki. The thoughts racing through his mind for the last hour had affected him more than he’d like to admit. Once he laid eyes on her, checked that she was okay and nothing had happened in his absence from any missed injury . . . then he’d be able to go and talk to Levi without completely losing his shit.

  He took a few minutes more than he liked to park his bike in the undercover area of the clubhouse and then strode over to his cabin. The clouds were gathering quickly, the sky fully gray, and fat raindrops splashed against his skin as he forced himself to not to break into a run. The few minutes it had taken to get inside and take care of his ride had been far too long, and his nerves were tingling at the thought of seeing Nikki again. He reached the door to the cabin and flung it open. Fuck pausing to knock. He’d gotten an eyeful of everything the night before, and so it wasn’t as if he could catch her by surprise or see something she hadn’t willingly given up to him already.

  Well, fuck him.

  Seth’s feet stopped dead at the open door. The cabin was small; it wasn’t as if there was anywhere you could hide. The entire space, sans the bathroom, was clearly visible from the open door. Even if Nikki was there, he should have been able to hear her. Damn, Seth was sure he’d sense her. She’d left an imprint on his skin the night before, one he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to wash off, one that made him aware in seconds that Nikki was no longer in his cabin. Instead, Seth was staring into the face of Padre, the club’s chaplain.

  “What happened?” The words left his mouth in a growl. If Nikki was gone and the damn chaplain was sitting there in Seth’s room, not saying a damn word, then something had gone seriously wrong. Where was Nikki? Was Doc losing his edge? Seth shook his head. No, Callie had checked her over, too. Both of them had cleared Nikki of any serious injury. Just scrapes and bruises. Had they been wrong? Had someone taken Nikki to hospital or . . . just what the hell was Padre doing sitting in his cabin? Seth had felt the attraction to Nikki the moment he’d laid eyes on her, but he’d kept it on the down low. At least, he thought he had.

  His hand gripped the doorjamb as he fought back a bitter laugh. Levi never missed a damn trick. But still, he didn’t expect the King’s president to send Padre after him to break the news. Levi knew him better than that. Hell, was he now no better than Grady, losing his shit when some ass was maybe stalking Callie?

  The thought was like a bucket of ice water had been emptied over his head. It was exactly like that. Seth had rolled his eyes at Grady at the time, getting so bent over a chick who they had no proof at the time she was even in danger. Now, he understood. He’d do anything to keep Nikki safe.

  Except he’d fucked up royally already. What had he been thinking, leaving her locked up in his cabin all day without asking anyone to check in on her? He was a complete moron, and an asshole. He could only hope Nikki would forgive him once he found out where the fuck she was. They still needed to find out her story, find out the real reason she was with the Jokers, but he would protect her no matter what side she was playing in the beginning. That much he was sure of. He just had to find her.

  First step. Find out what the hell Padre was doing in his cabin. Seth resisted the urge to clench his hands into fists. Even the roughest and loudmouthed of the Kings at least tried to reign it in a little around the man, even though it was likely entirely unnecessary. Padre could curse and drink the rest of them under the table. The man was older than most of the members, including Seth, and knew his way around the world, and a bar. Which was why finding him sitting along in his cabin was starting to scare the shit out of Seth.

  He pried his hand off the doorjamb and inclined his head to Padre, who was by now likely wondering if Seth was either high or insane with how long he’d been standing in the doorway imagining just how far down the rabbit hole to hell the situation had gotten in his absence. “Padre. Where is she?”

  The man in question looked up at Seth, his eyes full of regret. Rather than speak, he ran a hand through his hair, still worn long despite his age, and cleared his throat. Seth’s heart plummeted into his feet. Just what the hell had happened in the couple of hours he and Doc had been gone? “Seth, I’m sorry. I, uh, lost her.”

  He what? Seth’s feet started moving toward the table before he could stop them. He lost her? What the hell did that mean? Surely he didn’t mean that she’d died? Not after Doc and Callie had both . . . God, he had to get a grip and get Padre to start talking sense before he lost his fucking mind.

  Padre didn’t seem to realize how close Seth was to throwing something at his head. The man was still rambling. “I was sitting outside, spending some time with God and the universe. I didn’t realize she was supposed to stay in your cabin. I told her . . .” Padre finally sucked in a breath. “I told her . . .” he broke off again, finally looking up and meeting Seth’s gaze again. “Sticks, I didn’t stop her.”

  The fist squeezing Seth’s gut had lessened only slightly at Padre’s words, but his pulse still thrummed hard against his neck. He didn’t stop her doing what? “Where is she?”

  Padre’s hand moved again, this time rubbing the back of his neck. “She left, Sticks. Walked off the compound, I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  “I . . . uh . . . might have been sleeping a little, too. I’m sorry, Sticks. I didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to leave.”

  Fuck. That’s what he got for trying to keep everything a damn secret. He thought he was doing Nikki, and the club, a favor by trying to keep things under wraps until he had some actual answers, but he’d already gone and shot himself in the foot.

  Padre stood, moving toward Seth, who was still standing half way between the doorway and the table. “I’ll help you look for her. We can even take my car, in case she can’t come back on your bike.”

  Seth frowned. There was no way he wanted to get into a cage, but Padre had a point. He had no idea where Nikki had gone, or if anything had happened to her. Her story hadn’t added up since the moment she’d opened her mouth. There was simply no way that witnessing the existence of a chop shop would have led to her ending up kidnapped and roughed up by the Jokers. They wouldn’t take that much risk. Most civilians would fold at a biker showing up at their door late one night and explaining why it was in their best interests to keep their mouth shut. Not to mention that Nikki was far from their usual victi
m. Why go through all the risk of snatching someone who was bound to be missed where there was an almost endless supply of teenage street kids and drug addicts to snatch up whenever the mood hit you? It just didn’t make sense.

  Seth turned around, gesturing to Padre over his shoulder. “Let’s go. You’re driving.”

  13

  Nikki

  Cold. It was the first thought that came into her head when she woke, shivering, teeth chattering, every muscle in her body tight with tension. She didn’t remember blacking out. She remembered tripping and falling, and then the rain, and then crying, but after that, nothing. Maybe the trauma, the adrenaline drain, the anxiety had caught up with her and the welcome blackness had swept her away, but only for a while. She was huddled in a fetal position, her hair in her face, clumped from the rain, her clothes wet and clinging to her skin, hands raised close to her face in a boxer’s position, goose bumps on her flesh.

  She lay still for several moments, just staring at the shrubs, the dirt, and a low rise just beyond where she lay. She tried to move but winced in pain, a small stone digging into her right hip. With a groan, she finally forced herself to straighten her legs and her arms, then rolled onto her back. She squinted against the early morning light. At least it wasn’t raining anymore. The ground smelled fresh, and she idly recalled that she loved the smell of the desert after it rained, the pungent tinge of mesquite, the newness of it all. She didn’t catch any hints of mesquite now, but sage grass, almost like the smell of hay in the Oklahoma air. It all came back to her in a rush, Stacey, the Jokers, Seth, the Steel Kings, running away . . . ending up here, wherever the hell here was. What the hell was she going to do?

  First things first: move. Get up off the ground before she did something even more stupid and found herself in a situation she really couldn’t escape from. Ever so slowly, carefully, she stretched her muscles and tried to work out the kinks. She sat up, precariously, her head spinning, her wet clothes clinging to her and restricting her movements and prompting yet another chill to race down her spine. Her head pounded, and she felt sore in places she didn’t even realize she had a muscle.

  She gazed around her into the distance. There was nothing. Literally nothing but the plains spreading endlessly into the distance, the shrubs, no sign of life from human or animal. A wave of dizziness assaulted her senses, and with a groan she lay back down, her stomach heaving. She retched but managed to only bring up some bile, shuddering as another chill took hold of her body, prompting her to clamp her jaw tight to keep herself from accidently biting her tongue or lip. Did she have a fever? Was she sick? She didn’t know, but all she wanted to do was close her eyes . . . to rest just a few minutes longer before she attempted to get up and start walking.

  Walking where? It was too much, everything that had happened taking a toll not only on her mental state but also on her physical capabilities. She returned to her side position, her hands tucked between her thighs, turning inward, her body seeking its own warmth as she pulled her knees up to her chest, tears once again filling her eyes and spilling over onto her cheeks. That was it. Hope fled entirely. She had no reserves, no more strength. There was literally nothing left. Both emotionally and physically, she was done. She would never find Stacey. She was gone.

  “No,” she moaned, her cheek nestled into the soft dirt beneath her, cushioning her cheek, the scent of the soil wafting into her nostrils. No, she wouldn’t give up. She just needed to rest a little while longer, and she’d feel stronger, more capable of walking out of here. Just rest. Soon the sun would rise in the sky, warming her flesh and bones, drying her clothes, bathing her in its warm glow . . .

  “Nikki! Nikki, wake up!”

  At first the voice came from far away, as if from a distant tunnel or cave. Her heart skipped a beat. Was Stacey calling for her? Maybe it all had been a dream, a horrible nightmare. She’d open her eyes and realized that she’d fallen asleep on the couch in her apartment, and Stacey was shaking her shoulder, telling her they were late for a movie or something.

  But it wasn’t a nightmare. It was real life. Her reality. Shit. Though disappointment surged through her, she tried to hang on to the memory, tried to smile, but frowned instead when she realized that the voice speaking to her was male. She wanted desperately to retreat, to pull back into the blackness of oblivion, to not wake up to the horror of what might be happening to Stacey, of what had happened to her—

  “Nikki, dammit, wake up!”

  Her brow furrowed, resisting that voice. Growing angry at it for disturbing her peaceful slumber, she groaned. “Go ’way,” she muttered.

  She felt herself lifted into a warm embrace the steady thump of a heartbeat pulsing in her ear. So warm, so comfortable, and at some point in her semi-conscious state, she realized she wasn’t lying on the hard ground anymore. Something . . .

  “Nikki! I mean it!”

  Finally, she forced her eyes open, sudden realization prompting a gasp of fear and alarm. She found herself pulled close to someone’s chest, the heat of his skin blazing against her cold cheek. She was so close she could see the steady throb of a pulse in his neck, the whiskers on his chin rasping against her skin. She tried to move, but it was nearly impossible, her arms and legs heavy as if tied down with weights. What was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she move?

  “Nikki, that’s it, you can do it.”

  She felt a feathery touch on the top of her head and then on her forehead and her cheeks. Her head tilted back and the warmth touched her lips. It felt like . . . it felt like a kiss . . . Her vision clearing, she realized the man cradled her in his arms. She knew instinctively who it was. Seth. She moaned softly, then lifted her hand, clutching his tee-shirt in her fist. Oh, God, she had wanted to run so far away from him while at the same time, relief flowed through her. He had found her.

  “Is she all right?”

  The voice came from behind her. She frowned at the intrusion.

  “I think she’ll be okay, but I’ve got to get her back to the cabin, get her warmed up. She’s ice cold, Padre.”

  Padre. That crazy guy she had tripped over. With a sigh, she succumbed to her lethargy. She had failed. Failed to escape, failed to get far enough away to hitch a ride, to somehow make her way back to New Mexico and . . . and what? Her crazy, foolish, and perhaps deadly idea of allowing herself to be kidnapped by the Jokers again? What could she possibly—

  Her body shifted as hands slid beneath her arms and her knees, and she was lifted from the ground. She tried to hang on to Seth on her own, but her arm fell uselessly by her side, refusing to do her bidding. She didn’t need to help him, though, his strong arms more than capable of bearing her weight. She heard a car door open and then he stooped down, settling her gently in the back of a car. Warm, soft upholstery. He tucked her knees up and closed the door. Moments later, the opposite door opened and he slid in, shifted her again, her head and shoulders resting on his lap, his warm fingers brushing the hair from her face. The car dipped again as Padre slid behind the wheel.

  “Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition,” Padre said.

  “What the hell are you talking about, Padre?” Seth grumbled.

  “They always say that in the John Wayne movies, I felt it was apropos, don’t you think?”

  Seth sighed—whether from amusement or impatience, she didn’t know. She forced herself to concentrate on the sensation of his fingers brushing against her forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, tracing the line of her jaw, his hands warm, smelling slightly of grease and oil.

  “You just rest easy, Nikki. You’re going to be just fine.”

  The tenderness in his voice brought tears to her eyes. She wanted to protest, to tell him to take her back to New Mexico, to beg him, to tell him everything about her sister, about . . . Why did she feel this sudden, deep connection to Seth? She barely knew him. Sure, they’d had sex, but did that account for the swell of relief that she still felt, or the gratitude that he’d looked for her, eve
n though it ruined her plans, that he had found her? How had he managed that, anyway?

  She looked up at him as he gazed down at her. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, his eyebrows drawn together and that attempt to smile encouragingly. “How . . . ?”

  “How did I find you? It wasn’t easy, Nikki. Actually, I should spank your ass bright red for running away like that. Padre and I have been looking all night. You could’ve died out there, you know that, don’t you? There’s coyotes all over the place, and snakes too—”

  “Don’t forget tarantulas,” Padre spoke from the front seat, chuckling softly. “And scorpions, and bats . . . bats . . . I hate bats.” He paused. “Well, I shouldn’t hate anything. The Lord tells us not to hate, but I hate bats. They dive bomb and flit around, grab your hair . . .”

  The man shuddered, making Nikki almost smile before gazing up at Seth again, trying to ask the question with her eyes. Was Padre a little crazy? Seth looked down at her and offered a wink and a small shrug, followed by a slight rolling of his eyes. “It was Padre who spotted you first. He’s got sharp eyes.”

  She wasn’t sure whether to thank the man or curse him.

  “Want to tell me why you did that? Why you ran off like that? Are you really that afraid of me? Of us?”

  There were too many questions all at once, and she didn’t know which one to answer first. How could she tell him why she had run off? If he knew what she had planned, he would be so angry. That look of concern he wore on his face now would transform into disgust. How could any sane woman want to be kidnapped? How could any sane woman do that and not be afraid of being raped, or sold as a sex slave, or worse, passed around from man to man and then murdered, no one to know where she’d ended up? He wouldn’t understand that she worried about the same things with Stacey. Warm tears filled her eyes and spilled over, trickling down her cheeks. Seth’s thumb brushed them away.