by Brook Wilder
The air between them was suddenly heavy with tension and adrenaline and for a moment he nearly gave in to the electric charge shooting like lighting between them. For a second he nearly forgot the reason he was forced to sleep outside in the middle of a god damned forest in the first place.
He glared down at her as a rush of anger and memories filled him. At himself. At her. But most of all at Jackrabbit and Hatchet, the long familiar rage that had kept his need for revenge burning all these years. Finn’s voice hardened as he spoke.
“There’s no point in trying to escape.” He growled, his gaze locked onto hers as he forced himself to lean back. “If you scream, I’ll gag you. If you run, I’ll chase you. And you won’t like it when I catch you, got it?”
Finn didn’t wait to hear her answer before jumping to his feet and stalking to another tree a few feet away. As he laid down, resting his head back against the rough bark, all he could see was Hannah’s wide-eyed expression flashing through his mind. It’s just the adrenaline, Finn told himself, trying to explain away the vicious desire stabbing through him. That’s all it is. It’s just the stress getting to you, fucking with your head. You have to stay focused if you’re finally going to get your revenge.
Don’t worry, Finn answered silently, his resolve firming as he forced himself to remember and the anger that was always just below the surface began to boil even harder, they’ll pay. They’ll all pay.
Chapter 2
In a far off, distant part of his brain, Finn knew he was dreaming. That didn’t make the desert sand coating his mouth until he couldn’t swallow or the fear pumping through his veins as gunfire filled the smoky air feel any less real.
Finn could feel his hands shaking and he looked down to see the M4 clutched white-knuckled in his fingers. A blast shook the ground and it was close. Too fucking close. He flicked his gaze back up, wide eyed, trying to take in everything at once.
He was hiding in some sort of make-shift bunker, rusted corrugated steel siding was falling off the crumbling frame. It wasn’t much and it sure as hell wouldn’t survive another blast but at the moment it was all he had. The only thing keeping him from being riddled with enemy bullets.
Finn shook his head, swiping at his sweat soaked forehead as the beads rolled into his eyes, blinding him. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. His thoughts churned chaotically as he tried to figure out just when the fuck their simple, straight forward mission had gone south.
He was pinned down behind a metal barrel that had more holes in it than not. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t get to the rest of his unit. He was good and fucking trapped.
Panic so thick he could taste the coppery taste of it in his mouth filled him at the thought. A memory rose up from so long ago he was surprised he still remembered but he could see it clearly in his mind.
Finn had grown up in Montana. He’d run around half naked as a child, nearly feral as he wandered the forests and valleys that surrounded his granddad’s ranch. He’d lost his mother, Lisa, to cancer when he was just three, too young to remember. And then he’d lost his father a few years later to alcohol, and eventually the bullet he’d used to take his own life.
His granddad Henry always said that his father had just loved Lisa too much and that in the end, he couldn’t bear to spend another second in the world without her. It had sounded like bullshit to Finn then, and it still did now.
But Finn remembered. He’d been six years old and uncomfortable in the itchy black suit his granddad had made him wear to the service. He swore it had been so starched he could barely move in it. He had there on the grassy hill as the preacher spoke and the few people who knew William Walker looked solemnly at the hole in the ground where they were going to put his father.
He didn’t remember much else about the service, except for the sun that seemed to shine too brightly and the birds that sang too loud. And the anger. He remembered that too. Silently, he’d raged at the sun and the birds. At the stupid suit. He’d gotten so angry that he’d torn all the buttons off the jacket trying to get it off before running off through the cemetery into the trees that surrounded it.
He’d ran and ran until his feet were blistered and bleeding, not noticing the tears streaming down his face or where he was going. He just knew he had to get away. As far away as he could, so he could breathe again.
Six year old Finn had gotten lost in those woods. Afternoon faded into evening, and then twilight and still he couldn’t find his way back. The forest grew black and shadow monsters seemed to creep all around him. He’d felt the same paralyzing panic then as he did now.
It had been four more hours before the search party his granddad had put together found him, huddled and terrified against an old tree. Grandpa Henry hadn’t said a word. He didn’t yell at him or hand him over to a foster home for causing trouble like Finn had thought he would. He just took Finn’s hand and led him inside the old, outdated farmhouse and sat him at the kitchen table.
A moment later, his granddad was sliding a plate of warm food in front of him before taking one for himself. They sat there eating in silence and they never talked about the night Finn got lost in the woods.
Another rapid round of gunfire pierced through the memory and Finn shook his head and the vision faded only to be replaced by the blaring sun and clouds of dust rising in the air around the small, shack filled village. His Granddad wasn’t going to save him now. The old man had been dead for nearly twelve years. No one was going to save him.
The last time he’d seen anyone from his own unit they’d been so spread out they might as well be on different continents for all the good it would do them. Jackrabbit was stuck behind the armored jeep trying to get a clean shot and Hatchet had been pinned down in a different building.
A sudden noise at his back had the breath backing up in his lungs until it felt like they were about to burst. The enemy was close and getting closer. Finn couldn’t move. His arms and legs refused to respond. His heart was beating so hard in his chest he was surprised the enemy soldier creeping closer couldn’t hear it.
Finn heard the sound of the gun firing a second before the red-hot pain tore through his thigh. It took every ounce of his considerable willpower not to cry out in agony. He knew then. In that moment, he knew with a clarity that still shocked him. He knew he was going to die. And he knew that it wouldn’t matter. No one would give a fuck. Everyone he’d ever loved was dead. All he knew how to do was kill. To hunt and kill and follow orders. He’d lived as a soldier, and now, he would die as one.
***
Hannah bit her lip, not in nervousness although, logically, anyone in her position would be feeling more than a tad nervous. Scared even, perhaps. Terrified certainly wouldn’t be out of the question. Those would be completely justified emotions for most people who had just been wrongly kidnapped by a very large, very angry, and very notorious leader of a motorcycle gang who was intent on enacting revenge on anyone who got in his way.
But Hannah Lacy Donahue wasn’t most people. And Mr. Muscles was about to find that out the hard way. The thought nearly had a smile curling Hannah’s lips. All of her concentration, however, was on getting the knot that tied her hands together loosened.
She twisted her wrists back and forth, ignoring the way the rough rope was rubbing her skin raw. She would face a hell of a lot worse if she was still tied to that tree by the time the sun rose. Hannah glanced up into the night sky, the stars twinkling down in a field of lights that moved and glimmered in a beautiful dance against the indigo blue up above.
But she was blind to its beauty. All she could see was him. His sharp jaw and even sharper tongue. His eyes, one minute as calm as a foggy morning and the next flashing steely gray, harder than metal and harsher than a blade. And just as violent.
Hannah took a deep breath of the warm night air, trying to stay calm, trying to draw up every ounce of logic and rationale that she had. She knew if she let her emotions get the better of her she’d wind up tied to this tree f
or good, or worse.
She lowered her gaze, peering into the darkness at the spot she knew Finn had laid down just before the sun had fallen for good. All she could see was a vague, shadowy shape but she knew it was him.
Hannah desperately tried to remember everything she’d ever overheard about the man from Rachael or Jackrabbit but it wasn’t much. She hadn’t even known there was someone out to kill Jackrabbit and the Roadburners until she’d been suckered into driving a very pregnant Rachael to the crew’s clubhouse only to end up walking into the middle of a shootout.
The memory drew up thoughts of her sister and she couldn’t help but say a quick, worried prayer for her. Hannah hoped she was okay, she hoped her baby niece was okay. God, she just hoped they all were okay.
You better save a little bit of that concern for you yourself, a soft voice whispered in her thoughts, you are the one tied to a tree by a ruthless, determined killer.
Hannah shivered at the adjectives her mind had conjured up about her kidnapper. She knew he’d served with Jackrabbit and Hatchet, that’s how they all knew each other. And she also knew that he was a trained sniper, one of the best. But she’d overheard Jackrabbit talking about him just one, about how the war had changed him, made him so much harder, destroyed any part of him that used to be kind or caring or compassionate. He was a soldier, through and through.
Yeah, and now he’s a kidnapper. And the president of the motorcycle gang that’s trying to hurt your sister.
Her dark eyebrows lowered in anger at the reminder and she once more set about loosening the knots that had her hands bound together. Hannah lost track of time as she worked at the rope. She didn’t notice the blood that was staining the rough material from where it had broken through her skin. She didn’t notice the sweat that beaded on her forehead. She could only think of one thing. Getting to her sister, and making sure she, and her baby, were safe.
It seemed like an eternity had passed but finally she felt the knot give way and her heart nearly stopped beating then and there. After a moment the paralysis wore off and Hannah let the rope fall silently to the ground.
She rubbed at her rope-burned wrists, trying to get some feeling back into them as her gaze locked once more on Finn’s shadowy shape. She cocked her head to one side, listening.
Hannah held her breath as the sound of Finn’s deep, rhythmic breathing filled the air. This was it. This was the moment she’d been waiting for. He was finally asleep. Now it was time for her to make her move.
Come on, Hannah, it’s now or never. Time to channel your inner Rachael and be brave for once in your life! The words helped for a second but a second was all she needed to overcome her fear and push to her sore, blistered feet. Once she did she froze once more as Finn’s husky voice cut through the air.
“…No…Get away from me…Don’t make me shoot you…” His words were broken and odd sounding, as if he was speaking from far away and it only took Hannah a moment to realize that he was still asleep. He was having a dream. Or more like a nightmare by the sound of it.
Hannah could hear him fighting in his sleep, reliving some terrible battle and for moment, she hesitated. Despite herself, despite how completely illogical it would be a part of her wanted to go to him, to take away the raw, tortured pain in his voice.
She stood there longer than she should have, hoping that he would calm again but she could hear the turmoil as he turned and shifted on the hard ground, his muffled swears potent in the darkness.
This is your only chance, Hannah told herself, forcing her feet to move as silently as they could in the opposite direction, you have to escape if you can. Warn Rachael.
Without another glance back, Hannah set out into the dark forest. She didn’t even dare breathe in fear of waking Finn up but after she made it far enough away she broke into a light jog. Adrenaline and fear mixed together with a surprising exhilaration that spurred her feet on despite their abuse from the day before.
That exhilaration made her want to laugh. Made her want to dance under the moonlight. It made her feel alive in a way that she hadn’t since…well, since their mother had abandoned her and her sister when they were only eight years old.
It made her want to take risks. To do something the normal, logical Hannah never would have dreamed of. It made her understand, a little better at least, why her sister was always taking risks, no matter the consequences.
Hannah heard the sound of a twig snapping behind her a half second before she felt the force of a massive body tackling hers. Finn’s body. She wasn’t sure how she knew it was him, but she knew it absolutely.
The breath left her lungs in a rush but instead of hitting hard ground, Finn rolled at the last minute so that she landed on top of him. Not that he was any softer, her mind noted absently, along with the warmth of his body and the way hers seemed to melt against his despite their dire situation.
Get a hold of yourself, Hannah! Focus! Be logical! The stern reminder had her backpedaling, trying desperately to ignore her bodies unexpected reaction but the next moment he was moving again, flipping them so she was on her back and he was pressed against her, holding her in place with all six and half feet of him.
Her feet were about even with his knees. It seemed an odd thing for Hannah to focus on but anything was better as long as she could avoid the razor-sharp glare he was shooting at her from just a few millimeters away. He was so close she could feel the scruff of a few day’s growth on his jaw tickling her cheek.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing.” Finn snarled the words low and soft and somehow more threatening because of it.
“I’m escaping.” Hannah shot back, hating the sudden breathlessness in her voice.
“Well, you’re doing a bad fucking job of it.”
“Let me get up and I’ll give it another try. You know what they say, if at first you don’t succeed…” Hannah’s words trailed off as she watched the metallic gleam in his eyes soften for a moment and she had the odd sensation that he was about to laugh. But a moment later he was all hard, unbending steel once more.
“I told you, Princess,” His voice dipped somehow even lower as he spoke again, “I told you that if you ran, I would catch you. And that you wouldn’t like it when I did.” He paused then, staring at her and Hannah felt as if the whole world had narrowed down to the small space between them. She watched as he seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before giving a quick shake of his head, “I warned you.”
Before Hannah could make sense of his growled words, that space between them disappeared. Time slowed as his lips met hers. It wasn’t harsh or angry or aggressive. Those things she could have fought against. Instead, Finn’s mouth moved against hers with a soft urgency, teasing rather than taking, growing more intense as he tilted his head for a better angle and she had no defenses against it.
Hannah gasped and he was there in an instant, swallowing her breath and tangling his tongue against hers. The kiss seemed to last forever. She felt like she was drowning, lost in the middle of a dark ocean with no sight of land.
Finn reached out, grasping one of her wrists and Hannah stiffened, gasping again but this time in pain as her wounds pulsed back into life. He pulled back an instant later, holding her wrist up to his face in the moonlight.
“Shit. What did you do, princess?” The question was murmured softly and she wasn’t even sure if was really asking her for an answer but she gave him one anyway.
“I didn’t do anything. You were the one that tied me up, remember?” Hannah’s voice was just as soft as she spoke, not accusatory, just the pure statement of facts. “You could let me go, you know. You probably should. The cops still think you and your gang are on the run. You could just disappear. No need to add kidnapping to what I’m sure is an already impressive rap sheet.”
“You don’t know anything about me, princess,” Finn said harshly, not responding to any of her other statements as he rose to his feet, pulling her gently up with him. Hannah huffed in annoyance
as he once more drew out the length of rope. He pointed to a nearby tree. “Sit.”
“So, I guess that’s a no on letting me go, then.” Hannah said on a sigh, doing what he asked because well, she didn’t exactly have a lot of options. And if she was honest with herself, that unexpected kiss had left her more shaken than she cared to admit. She sat and Finn made quick work of tying her up, running the rope around her waist this time before securing it to the trunk of the tree.
After she was his prisoner once more he sat back on his heels, still kneeling next to her. His gaze was dark and unreadable as he spoke, “I can’t let you go, Hannah. You’re a hostage, like it or not. The sooner you get used to the idea, the better off you’ll be.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.” Hannah whispered the words as Finn dropped to the ground a few feet away from her, his arms cross over his impressive chest. She didn’t know if she was referring to being Finn’s hostage, or her wayward body’s reaction to him, but either way she very much thought she wouldn’t be better off. Not even close.
