Fighting for Elena

by Silver James

  A security guard from the hotel jogged up holding a towel filled with ice in his cupped palms. Pops took it and gently placed on the left side of the woman’s face. She’d definitely have a shiner in the morning, but he was more worried about a fracture of the cheekbone.

  “Did you know that guy?” he asked.

  The woman mumbled something that sounded like “girl.”

  “What girl?”

  Her right eye popped open. “Girl. Jean jacket. Dark ponytail. Maybe thirteen, fourteen. They were after her.”

  He tensed. “They?”

  “Two chased her. One stayed…” She swallowed hard and winced. “Ow.”

  Pops wanted to know why she was out so late by herself. He also worried about an unknown kid alone on the streets being chased by outlaw bikers. He’d seen the 1% patch on the asshole’s vest. “Which direction?”

  “Steps. Up.”

  Nothing to be done at the moment. The perps would be long gone, but he’d be sure to mention the girl to the cops when they arrived. “What’s your name?”

  Her hand scrabbled in the flowerbed next to the step where she sat. She gazed up with her one open eye. “My ID?”

  “Yeah, darlin’, your name.”

  She shook her head and winced. “No, state ID. In my hand.”

  State ID? Pops’s curiosity kicked into high gear. “You gotta flashlight?” he asked the security guard.

  The guard pulled out a Maglite and searched the ground. “Found it.” Using the toe of his boot, he nudged the black leather case closer to Pops, who picked it up. He glanced at the information before placing it in the woman’s hand. “Hi, Elena. I’m David West but most folks call me Pops.”

  The corner of her mouth that wasn’t covered by the icy towel quirked up. “You don’t look that old.”

  And things stirred again. What was up with his body? “Darlin’, I’ve been rode hard and put up wet more than once.”

  She giggled and he realized just how that sounded. The guard cleared his throat, obviously trying not to laugh. “Ow,” she murmured again.

  Before he could ask her anything else, two San Antonio cops arrived, along with two EMTs from the San Antonio Fire Department. He recognized one of them and gave her a chin lift.

  “She didn’t lose consciousness but there’s a little confusion. The guy punched her hard. She also took one to the left hip.”

  “Thanks, Pops. We’ve got her now.”

  He nodded and turned to the cops. “She has state ID from the Department of Family and Protective Services. Name’s Elena Rodriguez.”

  One of the cops leaned around Pops and growled. “Shit. I know her. She handled a really bad abuse case I was the primary on a couple of months ago.” He glanced between Pops and the woman. “What the hell is she doing out here this time of night?”

  “She isn’t making much sense. Something about a girl with bikers chasing her.”

  “Bikers?” The second cop squared his shoulders.

  “Yeah. The one I chased off wore a one percent patch on his vest.”

  “Did you get a look at his colors?” the first cop asked.

  “I’m chief of the Tarpley VFD and here for a meeting. Didn’t expect to walk into something like this. The only dealings we have with bikers is when they crash on one of the state roads so I don’t know that club from Adam, but I know a little ’bout reading colors. The top rocker said Hell Dogs and the SOB had that one percent patch.:

  The cops exchanged a long look before the second one explained. “They’re bad news. And they’re hooked in with some of the local gangs that are tied to the cartels.”

  “Well, crap.”

  Over the next ten minutes, Pops gave his version of events, all while keeping an eye on what the EMTs were doing to treat Elena. He was pissed on her behalf. Any man who hit a woman was no man in his book. He was old school and if he’d had a chance, he would have beaten the asshole to a bloody pulp. The coward ran rather than face what was coming. Pops might be pushing 55, but he worked hard on his ranch and training with TVFD. He was a hard man living a hard life and his body showed that.

  The EMTs settled Elena on a gurney while the police questioned her. She was making more sense now, the effects of the punch finally wearing off. Pops helped them maneuver the gurney up the steps to street level. Fighting the urge to hop into the back of the ambulance, he stood to the side as the EMTs loaded the gurney. One climbed into the back with Elena while the other headed to the driver’s seat. Pops moved to the doors. Just before they shut, he heard Elena call, “Hey, Papi. Muchas gracias.”

  “Glad I was here to help, little darlin’.”

  He secured the doors, tapped twice to let those inside know, then he stepped back onto the sidewalk and didn’t move until the ambulance disappeared, swallowed by the lights and shadows of downtown San Antonio. His chest tightened and he wondered if he’d just lost something that he hadn’t been looking for but might not find ever again.

  Chapter 3

  Living on the street leaves scars. Joy carried more than a few now. Still, it was better than being trapped by the Hell Dogs. Her brain told her to phone home, but her heart believed what that one scary guy told her over and over. If she contacted her family or had contact with anyone who was a Wolf, her life and theirs would be over “just like that.” He’d snapped his fingers to emphasize his point. The Hell Dogs would kill everyone she loved in a nanosecond. She couldn’t risk it.

  A police car drove slowly down the street and she ducked behind a stack of wooden pallets. She shrank lower to the ground as a spotlight swept both sides of the road. In the afterglow, she caught the words spray-painted on a concrete barrier deposited across the street.

  One day you’ll die.

  The message was enough to suck the life right out of her. Shaking, she forced memories away—memories of a concrete and iron cell, of machines and people in white coats, of pain and terror. But then Nate came. Dad. That’s what she called him now. The big Wolf who’d rescued her, gave her a home, him and his mate, Jacey. Mom. She’d do whatever it took to keep them safe. To keep Gracie safe. And Liam.

  Her head insisted she call home, knowing everyone would be worried, but her heart only wanted to keep them safe. The red taillights blinked out in the distance. She pushed to her feet and head down, she kept walking.

  “Please don’t run again,” a feminine voice whispered.

  Warm fingers gripped her arm and she recognized the face belonging to the voice. This was the woman who had approached her on the River Walk and Joy had seen Hell Dogs coming. She’d taken off in a panic. She didn’t know this lady and couldn’t trust her. Or anyone.

  “Please. Stay and talk to me.” The woman continued to speak softly but with urgency. “My name is Elena.” Her voice was nice and had a very slight Mexican accent, like she’d grown up around Spanish speakers but still spoke English first. “I told you the other night that I work for DFPS.”

  Joy blinked, her brow crinkling as she tried to work out what the initials stood for. She was from West Virginia. Or was before the Hell Dogs. That’s where her adopted family settled after Louisiana and Virginia. Bad people had been chasing them forever. Mister Mac and Miz Hannah, the leaders of their group, finally settled them in a small town in the mountains of West Virginia where the men didn’t have to hide what they were, where everybody knew the secrets and kept them.

  As if reading her confusion, Elena explained. “The Department of Family and Protective Services. I work with kids, with runaways like you.”

  “I’m not a runaway.” She wasn’t. Those men had scooped her up during a shopping trip to the mall in Raleigh.

  “Do you have a home to go to?”

  The lady was nice and persistent, but Joy didn’t have time for this. Any of it. She pulled against Elena’s hold. She had to get away. The Hell Dogs, they could sniff her out. That’s when she saw the bruise on the social worker’s face.

  “They did that to you.” She was positive. Elena
had tried to come after her and the Hell Dogs got her. Had they done anything else?

  “Those bikers who were chasing you? Yes. One of them punched me but then some real men came to help me. Just like I came to help you.”

  Joy shook her head and tried to back away. “You don’t understand,” she whispered.

  “I promise I can help you.”

  “No one can help!” Desperate to get away, she jerked her arm hard. Surprised, Elena loosened her grip just enough that Joy could pull free. She turned and ran blindly, tears blurring her vision. She scrambled over the concrete barrier with the prophetic words painted in black like artwork and kept going. The moon wasn’t very bright, but she could see better at night than normal humans, even if she wasn’t a Wolf.

  She ran until she couldn’t breathe any more. Then she ran some more. She found a drainage ditch with water in the bottom. She slid down the concrete sides, scraping her hands in the process, but she couldn’t stop. She hit the water at a trot, splashing it to both sides. She’d follow this until she found an easy way to get out of it and hope that the Dogs would lose her scent.

  Joy. She didn’t have that anymore. She’d have to pick a new name. Something that reflected who she was now, something that no one could find her by. She wondered what the opposite of joy was. Antonym, her brain supplied. That was the word for opposites. She missed school. She especially missed books. When Nate found her, she didn’t know how to read. Jacey and Miz Annie, who was Mr. Boomer’s mate and Cody’s mom, both taught her, and she’d discovered whole new worlds. A boy wizard who lived an awful life like her but overcame everything. The kids of Greek gods at a special school. The school for vampires. So many books.

  She missed Cody and Micah. Her little sister Grace, who’d been adopted like her when her real mom and dad got killed. Even little Sally. She really missed Liam. He understood her and protected her without being all mean and uppity about it. But if she went back, she’d just be leading the Hell Dogs to them. And if Dad and the rest came for her, the Hell Dogs would kill them and then…

  Joy couldn’t bear to think about what would happen then so she stopped thinking and just jogged. She was tired and hungry and sad and scared. Mostly hungry and scared. And tired and sad. One foot in front of the other. She had to keep moving. Had to get away. Had to get out of San Antonio. Go somewhere different. Maybe Los Angeles. Would there be Hell Dogs in LA? She could live on the beach and sell T-shirts or something. It was nice there all year round. No snow or anything like that. Yeah. She’d figure out a way to get to California. Maybe jump into a freight car on a west-bound train. She’d read a book like that. She could ride a train all the way there and then she’d make a new life for herself.

  The concrete drainage ditch widened out into a muddy field and she could see a wider body of water ahead. A river? She wished she had a map. At least Dad taught her how to figure out the directions from the sun and the moon and the stars. She’d head west, and she’d keep going that direction until she found the Pacific Ocean. And maybe, if she was lucky, she’d find a book or two to read along the way.

  Joy traversed what turned out to be a bog with care. She had only the clothes on her back and the athletic shoes on her feet. She’d spent time in the bayous, knew the dangers. Getting a shoe sucked off by the mud didn’t compare to say…coming face-to-face with an alligator but for her? Losing a shoe—or both of them—would be a major disaster. She was barely flying under the radar was it was, and considering what happened two night ago, she wasn’t doing a very good job of that.

  Begging people for money to get food was humiliating enough. She’d tried getting a job but no one would hire a kid with no ID, and she didn’t have the cash or a way to get a fake one. All she could do was keep moving.

  Two hours later, the sun peeked over the eastern horizon behind her. Ahead of her, car lights zoomed along a busy road and a false dawn created by a truck stop teased her. She had a couple of bucks. She could buy some peanut butter crackers and maybe she’d get lucky and there would be a water fountain. If she could find a bottle in the trash, she could wash it in the ladies room and fill it. And maybe—if she was really lucky, she could sneak a ride that would take her west.

  Joy froze. Hot breath misted over her face and something very large shifted next to her. Terrified that the Hell Dogs had captured her again, she didn’t breathe. More than once, while in their control, she’d awakened to a sweaty body pressed against her in a bed. Only this wasn’t a bed. It was hay. And she was about to sneeze. She opened one eye to a slit as something snuffled her hair.

  Relief flooded her as recognition kicked in. A horse. She was in a horse trailer. One she’d sneaked into after spending a day hiding out at the truck stop. The cowboy guy parked well away from the building and other cars. She’d been hunkered down in the field, away from any lights, and recognized her chance as he strolled inside the store. The trailer wasn’t fancy but it had a door on the side where she could get inside without being seen. She studied the latches to make sure she could close it from the inside. It wouldn’t do to get caught until she was far enough away from any Hell Dogs. And a cowboy? That was about as far away as she could get.

  The two horses in the trailer had ignored her after she petted them and offered them each a half of her last peanut butter cracker. The sacrifice was worth it when the cowboy came back and the horses acted like there was nothing going on. The big pickup truck pulling the trailer started up, it’s diesel engine growling. Joy nestled deeper into the hay. It was April. Back home, they’d still be in warm coats five days out of seven. Here? The air was balmy and a little humid but the wind at highway speeds whipped in through the cracks and the hoodie she’d “borrowed” to wear over her jean jacket did little to keep her warm. At some point, she’d fallen asleep, feeling safe for the first time in weeks. But now there was light, and the trailer wasn’t moving.

  Voices—three of them—carried on a conversation far enough away she couldn’t make out the words. She almost choked on the panic rising inside her. Breathe, she commanded. Focus. Survive. Her dad’s voice whispered in her ear. OODA loop, little girl. Observe. Orient. Decide. Act. Play that on a continuous loop in your head if you ever get caught.

  With utmost care, she raised her head just enough she could peer through a slit in the metal sides of the trailer. Three men stood near a corral, talking. She rolled over, peeked out the other side. A barn. With open land dotted with trees behind it. Time to go. This side had the door and the building and would put the trailer between her and the men. They all looked like cowboys—jeans, boots, big buckles, and cowboy hats—at least two of them. The oldest man wore a baseball cap that had a funny cross on it and the letters TVFD.

  She eased to her knees and worked the latch. The door popped open about three inches and she grabbed the edge to keep it from swinging all the way open. She bit back a cry when a sharp metal edge cut her fingers. That was so not good. The Hell Dogs could track her by her blood, but she didn’t have time to clean it up. She slipped out, bent double, closed and latched the door. She leaned around the curved front of the trailer to check the men’s location. They were still talking. Now or never. Staying doubled over, she dashed to the side of the barn and hugged it.

  Observe. Orient. Decide. Act.

  She checked the men. They were shaking hands. That meant they were through talking. She checked the land behind the barn, located a stand of trees. Time to go. Decision made, she crept along the side of the barn headed for the trees. So far so good. No one yelled. No one came after her. She needed water, food, and sleep. Then she had to figure out where she was and how to get back on the road.

  At the back of the barn, she found a camouflage tarp. Since it was tossed behind the barn, maybe it was trash, and no one would miss it if she took it. Some how, some way, she’d figure out how to repay the cowboy. When she arrived at the trees, she discovered it was like a thicket and she could squirm into the middle. With the tarp, she’d be almost invisible. Sh
e’d sleep the day and once dark came, she’d scout further, looking for food and water. She spread out the tarp, lay down, and pulled one side over her. Pulling the sleeve of the hoodie down over her cut hand, she squeezed the material tight and hoped the bleeding stopped.

  She had a plan. She had the man who’d rescued her, taught her, and loved her in her head. Nate. The man who’d become her Dad. He’d see her through this. And she’d repay him by keeping him, Jacey, Gracie, and all the rest alive. Especially Liam. She couldn’t think about Liam McIntire. Her heart hurt too much when she did.

  Too bad her brain made sure she dreamed of him.

  Chapter 4

  From the back of his pickup truck Pops passed folding chairs to the willing hands waiting next to the tailgate. Mid-morning and the area was already filled with tents, food trucks and trailers, carnival rides, and people. Lots and lots of people. What had once been a community Indian Taco dinner to raise funds for the fire department had morphed into a carnival and dance. People came from Bandera, Medina, Hondo. And all the ranches in the area. Today’s celebration was even bigger. There would be VIPs “in the house” later. Pops chuckled to himself, thinking that having an Elvis impersonator would be far more enjoyable than the speeches to come.

  When the chairs were offloaded, he stood on the bed of the truck, feet wide, hands fisted on his hips as he surveyed the area. The parking lot of the Community Center was set up for the dance—and speeches—with a stage and rows of chairs ringing it. North of the lot, the carnival rides were already spinning. Bouncy houses would draw the kids, along with the rides. The aromas of everything from popcorn to BBQ permeated the air from what the guys had dubbed Food Truck Row. There was a craft show inside the community center.