“And you thought letting yourself be kidnapped was the way to go about it? To find her? Do you know how many bastards ride with Jokers?”
She looked at him. He didn’t understand. He just stood there, looking so judgmental, so . . . “I didn’t know what else to do, Seth.” Fatigue consumed her. She was worn out, mentally and physically. She wanted to give up, to surrender, but she couldn’t. She had to find Stacey, no matter what.
“It’s easy for you to stand there and judge, isn’t it?” she asked, her own voice soft now, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She was so tired of struggling, of trying to maintain a modicum of calm. The secret was out, but she still didn’t know what would happen next as a result. “You tell me what I should’ve done. Who I could’ve gone to? You tell me, Seth. Who would’ve helped me look for my sister?”
“But Nikki . . . ” He took a step closer, sitting down next to her, not touching, but close. “Don’t you realize that they could’ve raped you? They could’ve sold you into . . . they could’ve killed you.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” she exclaimed, her voice rising again as she turned toward him. “What I did might have been dumb, but believe me, I’m not totally stupid. I knew what might happen to me.” Her voice cracked. “But I had to find my sister! I have to find my sister!”
He reached for her then, an arm sliding over her shoulders. For just a moment, for just that brief second, she wanted to collapse against him, to revel in his strength and comfort. Instead, she hit him in the chest again. “Let me go, Seth. I can’t be here anymore. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“You know, Nikki, the chances of you finding her are—”
“Don’t you dare tell me how slim the chances are of me finding her! Don’t you think I know that? So what? I give up?” She turned on him. “Don’t you dare tell me that she could be . . . I know she could be halfway around the world by now, trapped in a steel container on a ship or in a warehouse somewhere! Don’t you dare tell me that she could already be dead!” She battered at him. He gently grabbed her wrists as she wailed. “Because I already know all that, Seth. I already know!”
He didn’t move. He tried to comfort her, but she was having none of it. He stared at her, then at the door. “I need to go talk to Levi. We’ll figure out something, I promise.”
She almost laughed. “Really? What are you going to do? You think you have a better chance of finding her than I do? Why? Because you’re a man?”
“Don’t be stupid,” he growled. “That’s not what I meant—”
“I don’t care what you meant, Seth,” she said, totally drained. “Just go away. Leave me the hell alone.”
After several silent moments, he acquiesced to her wishes. He stood, gazing down at her another moment, then turned and strode to the door. He opened it, then looked back over his shoulder. “We’ll figure out something, Nikki. Believe me.”
She snorted, turning her face from him and crossing her arms over her chest, desperately trying to swallow the emotion causing the horrible tightness in her throat and the heavy ball in her chest. The door closed softly behind him.
Anger warred with relief. How had he found out? Had it been that Joker? Or something else? Had he known all along? And if so, how? She stood, swiping at her cheeks again, taking a deep, shuddering breath. She needs to leave. Now. Before things got even more complicated. Maybe she should go to the cops. Maybe she should tell them what happened, that she’d been kidnapped while trying to find her sister. That she’d been so-called rescued by the Steel Kings. The problem was, she didn’t want to get Seth into trouble. None of them had done anything to harm her. Not really. And besides, she and Seth . . . she needed the comfort, the connection, but it didn’t mean anything, did it?
Did it?
Without overthinking it, she strode to the door. She flipped off the light switch, casting the room into darkness. The only thought on her mind right now was to leave. Seth couldn’t help her. The Steel Kings couldn’t help her. Seth had already told her about the ongoing troubles between the Jokers and the club. They were outnumbered. She didn’t want to drag them into her mess. Not because she didn’t want the help, but what could they do? They had no more information to go on than she did. Unless . . . could that Joker they’d taken inside the main building told them anything? Did he know anything about Stacey? She shook her head. Gang members like that simply followed orders. Guys like him wouldn’t know what the hell was going on even within a local gang. And the Jokers . . . they were multistate. He might’ve heard about Stacey, but that didn’t mean diddly squat. How many women did they kidnap? How many women did they kidnap for ransom, to sell into sex trafficking rings, or force them to be drug mules, or . . . The list was endless.
She had to take the chance, and she had to do it now. No one would be expecting her to try to get away now, not so soon after her last failed attempt. This time . . . she stepped outside and stood in the darkness just beyond the door. She closed it softly behind her before sliding along the wall of the cabin. She peered toward the main building. Motorcycles were lined up along the front, a sliver of moonlight casting the chrome into flashes of brightness. She couldn’t ride a bike, but there were a couple of cars nearby, Padre’s one of them.
Did she dare? No one was around, the club members probably inside the main building, curious about what was happening with the Joker. She heard the sound of loud voices, but it was more raucous than threatening. She saw the shadow of Padre’s car parked near a pole carrying electrical lines that separated halfway between Seth’s cabin and the main building. She ran toward it, hunched halfway over, her heart pounding, questioning her own actions. Desperation made her do crazy things, no doubt about it. Maybe she should trust Seth, but—
A shout from inside prompted her to freeze, not ten steps away from the old car. More laughter. More brave talk and threats, then nothing. She quickly moved toward the car door, glanced inside, hoping to find the car keys in the ignition. No such luck. With a low curse, she turned to find herself staring at the wooden post carrying the power line and there, hanging from one of the rods inserted in the side of the post to facilitate maintenance, she saw a key. Seriously?
She reached for the key and quickly opened the car door. Thank God the overhead light didn’t come on. She slid the key into the ignition, hoping that it was the right one, that it would fit, that . . . it slid in easily all the way in. At that moment, several of the club members emerged from the front of the main building.
Heart pounding, knowing that she might only have a few seconds, she turned the key in the ignition, slammed the car into reverse, and stepped on the accelerator. The car jolted backward, and she tapped the brakes just before she crashed into two of the parked bikes, then shoved the car into drive and pressed the accelerator to the floor. She laughed, a crazy sounding laugh as she sped through the gate and onto the asphalt highway. Her heart pounding, her blood surging, her head exploding with excitement, she found the light switch, the headlights illuminating maybe fifty feet of the asphalt road in front of her.
She had done it! She had gotten away! She tightly gripped the steering wheel, focused on keeping her eyes on the road, even as she heard the sound of motorcycles revving into life behind her. She pressed the accelerator down harder and hunched over the steering wheel, praying that she could outrace the motorcycles that were now in pursuit, their headlights shining into the vehicle, bouncing against the rearview mirror.
She had to make it! She had to make it this time! She had to!
Faster and faster she drove, the car shuddering when it hit sixty miles an hour. She cursed, tried to push it to sixty-five and then seventy, but the alignment was so bad, the car shuddering more forcefully, that she was forced to ease off. The motorcycles gained on her. No! She wasn’t going to fail this time. The road curved to the right, around a low hill. A motorcycle surged ahead of the rest, closing the distance, and, gritting her teeth, she pressed down on the accelerator again, holding the jol
ting steering wheel tightly in her hands. Dammit! She barely made the turn around another hill, unfamiliar with the road.
The night was dark. Her heart in her throat, she stared at the road, trying to anticipate its curves. Just then, several drops landed on the windshield. Then, a steadier flow of rain. She muttered, groped for the windshield wipers, but she couldn’t find the right switch to turn them on, if they even worked.
“Damn it!” she growled, slamming one hand against the steering wheel, casting a quick gaze into the rearview mirror. Five motorcycle headlights bobbed behind her, keeping a safe distance, not gaining on her anymore. Why? What were they doing? Then, belatedly, she glanced down at the dashboard and saw an orange light glowing on the dashboard with the image of a gas pump. “No!” she screamed. The gas tank was on empty! She raged, her words unintelligible even to her. They were just shouts of disbelief, of despair. This couldn’t be happening! Why—
She rounded another curve and barely managed to keep from skidding off onto the shoulder of the road as an S curve came up. The car shuddered, the engine rumbling, the sound of raindrops pounding on the windshield now, marring her view. The tires caught gravel. She leaned closer over the steering wheel, eyes narrowed. She tried to peer through the rain splattered, dusty windshield. Another curve. She slammed on the brakes, fishtailing, her heart in her throat, her grip on the steering wheel so tight her fingers grew numb. The motorcycles gained some ground.
Unbidden, tears once again filled her eyes and blurred her vision. She tried desperately to blink them away but failed. She knew it was useless, but she refused to stop. The motorcycles would just follow her until she ran out of gas. She had a straightaway on the road, and then off to her right, she saw the warehouse where she had been taken, where she had been rescued by Seth.
It whizzed by in a blur. She kept going, heading west, not knowing how far she’d get before the car finally coughed and shuddered before grinding to a halt. She tightened her jaw, cursing her bad luck, the Jokers, even Seth. If she couldn’t—
Another sharp curve in the road, one that she wasn’t ready for. It took nearly an L turn in front of a small bluff, then rolled almost immediately again to the left, followed by another sharp S curve. She tapped the brakes, but the water on the road caused the tires to squeal, the brake pads to whine, the rear end of the car fishtailing again. She tried to correct, tried to slow down, but the car was out of control. It swerved drastically from side to side. No matter what Nikki did, she couldn’t get the car under control. Her heart in her throat, she held on to the steering wheel for dear life. Then she hit something, she wasn’t sure what, maybe the shoulder, maybe a rock, maybe even an animal. The car shot across the asphalt, and the left front tire lifted from the pavement. She instinctively yanked on the steering wheel, pulling the car in the other direction, but she overcorrected. The car slid sideways, perpendicular to the asphalt highway, and then both the left wheels lifted once more from the pavement.
A horrified scream ripped from her mouth as the car continued to tilt. She tried to hang on to the steering wheel, realizing only at that moment that she hadn’t put on a seatbelt. If the car even had seatbelts. With a grinding crunch and a groan, the car flipped. Fifty miles an hour, wet road, loss of control, car flipping . . .
She screamed again, but it was cut off and overwhelmed by the sound of crunching metal, grinding, a popping tire, and she was thrown away from her seat, crashing into the console between the seats. Her body tumbled from her seat. She crashed into the passenger side door, then the roof as the car flipped. Pain exploded, her ears echoing with the sound of heavy thuds, and then everything went black.
19
Seth
Seth, Grady, and Levi stood in the middle of the upstairs room, embroiled in a low-voiced yet heated discussion about the next steps to take toward dealing with the Joker. Seth wanted to kill him, with his bare hands preferably, since every time he looked at the bastard’s face, all he could see was him yanking Nikki from the bed of that truck. Blood pounded through his veins and made his ears ring, hands tightened into fists.
This time, it was Grady who tried to calm Seth’s bloodlust. He was succeeding, too, but only just. Levi watched both of them with an expression akin to amusement, which Seth could tell neither of them appreciated.
“I can get information from him without killing him,” Grady insisted for the third time.
“And then what are we going to do with him?”
“Leave him in the middle of the desert to find his way back on foot, and with a warning to pass on to their prez,” Grady shrugged.
“Not good enough. I want—”
A loud clomping of boots up the wooden stairs interrupted the discussion. At the top landing, at least two people hurried across the hallway. Seconds later, three hard knocks on the door prompted Seth to snarl and yank it open.
“What?” he shouted.
Chops stood in the doorway, his large bulk partially hiding Shakespeare. They stared at Seth, then exchanged a glance with each other, eyes wide. Chops opened his mouth, closed it, and then gestured behind his shoulder. “She got away!” he stammered.
“Who got away?” Grady snapped.
“That girl, that woman that Sticks is hiding in his cabin! She took off in Padre’s car!”
Seth stared at Chops in disbelief before turning to Levi.
Levi slowly shook his head and rolled his eyes. “So, your innocent kidnap victim stole Padre’s car? What do you have to say about that, Sticks?”
His first reaction was to snap back. He did. “How the hell do I know?” He turned and glared at Chops. “When did this happen? Why wasn’t I—”
“Just a few minutes ago! Several of the guys are chasing after her!”
Seth pressed his hands against his thighs, forcing them not to roll into fists. Nikki stole a car. Took off. Again. Damn her! What the fuck was her problem? Why couldn’t she just stay put until they figured out how they could help her? He glanced at Grady and the smirk on his face. He scowled, his glare daring Grady to say something. He cursed and looked over at Levi, who gave him a nod.
To hell with this. Levi and Grady could deal with the Joker. He need to go after Nikki. He headed for the door, Chops and Shakespeare scrambling out of the way just in time. He pushed past them, his heart pounding and his temper roiling as he took the steps down two at a time, not sparing anyone left in the main room a glance as he strong-armed the door open and headed outside toward his bike.
He wanted to rage, to curse, to smack some sense into her, although his grandmother would have had his head if he ever lay his hand on a woman. She wouldn’t have needed to worry—God rest her soul—because Seth would take himself out before he ever hurt Nikki or anyone under his protection. But fuck, she’d aggravated the hell out of him, constantly putting herself in danger.
He climbed on his bike, shoving his hand deep in his jeans pocket for the key. Why the hell did he care so damn much? She’d been nothing but trouble since the moment he’d pulled her from the Joker’s clutches. Nothing but a pain in the ass. A thorn in his side. A difficult, stubborn, mouthy—
“You need any help catching the little lady, Sticks?”
He turned to glare at three other guys who had burst out of the main floor, their laughter echoing through the darkness. Great. Just what he needed, to be made a laughingstock by a woman he couldn’t keep under control. With a short shake of his head, he shoved the key into the ignition, toed the bike in gear, and then yanked back on the throttle. The bike shot forward, but he squeezed the brake, his back tire spinning, shooting bits of gravel at the guys standing there still laughing but now ducking and covering their heads.
He sped out of the dirt parking lot and bounced onto the asphalt. Shit, he hadn’t even asked Chops which way she’d gone. Seth sent up a Hail Mary and then turned the bike the same way she’d tried to escape the first time.
Heart pounding, he accelerated, the asphalt passing beneath his bike in a blur, the wind tu
gging at his hair. He cursed when something hard smacked into his forehead, and he swiped away the remnants of a bug. Damn it, fuck, and damn it! When he got his hands on her again, he’d—
He’d what? Kiss her? Shake her and then pull her to him? Fuck the living daylights out of her, not because he was angry, because he needed to keep her close to him, under his body, the memory of her writhing and moans triggering desire throughout him even now as he chased her down? Again.
Again. He should just let her go. He wasn’t her keeper. Still, the thought of letting her go, only to put herself in danger again . . . Admit it, you coward. His attraction to her was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He knew she felt attracted to him as well. Why fight it? Why not open himself up and see where things went?
Because, you stupid jerk, she’s not going to jump into a relationship with you when she’s frantic to find her sister.
But why did she think she had to do this on her own? Like he had believed about Nikki, Seth was now sure that her sister had seen something she shouldn’t have, like a murder . . . or maybe she’d done something herself, like embezzle . . . or met the wrong person or . . . once you had the Jokers’ attention, it was bad news. They intimidated people. They threatened and took what they wanted when they wanted it. They terrorized entire neighborhoods. Maybe Stacey’s only crime was that she was pretty, like her sister. Maybe the Jokers just wanted her, and she’d had the audacity to say no. No one said no to the Jokers.
Stacey had worked at the auto shop. Surely she had known what was going on. She would have heard something. Seen drugs . . . guns, something. How could you not? Unless the boss had only recently moved operations there. He had no way of knowing. But it had to be more than a chop-shop scenario. Most likely drugs. A lot of drugs or other serious criminal activity—and a lot of money involved—to promote a kidnapping. But where the cartels were concerned, it was possible.
Confession Page 14
