GIVE IN: God's Hellfire MC

by Naomi West

  It had been hours since Rocky left. He’d promised that he’d be back soon but I wasn’t going to believe it until he was standing alive and well in my arms. Tonight was the night that Rocky had planned to meet up with Jason Steele and carry out the hit.

  I was beginning to get anxious.

  Who was I kidding? I was anxious the second he’d placed a foot out the door.

  I turned on my heel and began another lap around Rocky’s workshop. It wasn’t too long ago when I was here pacing exactly like I was now, waiting for Rocky to come back to me. The last time was when Rocky and his uncle had met with Garcia at the warehouse and that had turned out fine so maybe I was just overreacting. He was probably fine anyway. He’d spent a long time talking about how easy a hit that was going to be.

  In a way, it churned my stomach to know that Rocky was out trying to kill someone at that very moment. On the other hand, it was Rocky, and I couldn’t ever hide how much I would be willing to overcome to remain with him.

  He had insisted that it would be the so simple he would be back by dinner but it was a lot later than what I’d expected. He could’ve just been dishonest for my sake but I had a feeling that Rocky wasn’t purposefully lying to me. He really did think he would get home in time. And that only left a few other possibilities of what had happened, none of them looking too positive.

  I couldn’t help the way my chest tightened with fear. Something didn’t feel right. Call it a woman’s intuition or just superstition, I knew something wasn’t right. It had been way too long for Rocky not to come back. And he would’ve called by now if he could.

  That thought almost earned a scoff from me. Rocky was the worst when it came to calling or texting or even answering. If he even had a phone on him it was a miracle.

  I wandered over to the single window of Rocky’s workshop that faced the street and peered through a slat in the closed shutters. The street was quiet outside, just what I would expect at this time of night in Springville. I kept an eye out hoping that Rocky would come racing down on his motorbike at any moment but when he didn’t, I backed away from the window with a groan of frustration.

  Where was he?

  Normally, I would’ve been at the hotel with my mom, but I’d told Rocky I would wait here for him to get back. I didn’t want to miss him when he returned and I also wanted to be there for him in case he needed me. Despite Rocky’s constant talk of vengeance, I knew he was a better man than what he thought of himself, and I knew he would have mixed feelings about Steele’s death.

  Maybe that was what was going on.

  Maybe he felt confused and needed some time alone to think things through.

  That didn’t sound like Rocky but I would accept any explanation apart from the awful scenarios I’d conjured in my head. Shot and left for dead, bleeding out in the streets, crashed into a brick wall, motorbike crushing his body, stabbed in the chest, his final breaths made in a cold and dark alley, completely alone.

  I peered through the shutters again, eyeing the empty street outside and praying for any movement at all.

  Nothing.

  There was absolutely nothing. No people, no cars, no bikes, and, most importantly, no Rocky.

  Where could he be?

  Just as that thought crossed my mind, I heard the low rumble of an engine coupled with the bright headlights as something came speeding down my street. I stood up on my toes trying to get a better view, craning my neck left and right while my heart threatened to burst out of my chest.

  I let out a small sound of anguish as I realized it was just a black van coming down the street.

  Just as I was about to turn away from the window, I noticed the van stop right outside and three men getting out, holding guns the size of my arm and dressed in head to toe black.

  “Shit,” I muttered to myself.

  I immediately let go of the shutters and raced to turn off all the lights. What was I meant to do in an invasion situation? It had never happened to me before so I was at a complete loss.

  What else?

  I hurried to the front door and locked it, wishing there was a deadbolt as well.

  What else?

  A weapon. I jumped over to a small cabinet on Rocky’s side of the room and pulled out the shoebox resting inside. Rocky wouldn’t mind if I borrowed his gun, right?

  I peeled off the lid and cursed when I realized that of course it would be empty, Rocky had it with him for tonight.

  What would work as a weapon then? I scanned the room frantically and almost smacked myself a moment later when I remembered where I worked.

  I opened Rocky’s toolbox and grabbed the large metal wrench that was about the distance from my fingers to my elbow. That should do nicely.

  The door was pounded on roughly from the other side and I resisted the urge to scream.

  “It’s okay. They can’t get in, they don’t know you're here.”

  The door shook again as the men behind it tried to knock it down.

  That was my cue to hide. Hurrying to my office, I locked the door behind me and squeezed myself under the desk. There was no hope for me, I knew it.

  I snagged my phone from my back pocket and dialled Rocky’s number.

  “Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up.” I groaned and shut off my phone, debating who next to call.

  A loud bang sounded out as the front door of the workshop finally opened and the men were able to come in.

  My hands began to shake. I thought it would take them a lot longer to get through that door.

  I called Rocky once again praying that maybe this time he’d answer. Again, there was no answer.

  Should I call the police? I debated it then dismissed the option entirely. I supposed Rocky was rubbing off on me.

  I gripped the wrench tighter in my grip, holding it carefully behind me so that it would be slightly hidden when the door opened.

  The men were making a lot of noise over in the other room, I could hear them shuffling about and knocking things over without a care. Hopefully if they made enough of a mess then Rocky would walk in and immediately figure that something was wrong. My heart was beating in my throat as I held my breath for as long as I would be able. I wondered if they were looking for me or if I was just unlucky.

  My question was answered when the office door flung open and a man shouted, “We got her!”

  Well, I wasn’t willing to go out without a fight.

  I lifted the wrench up and over my head, ready to swing when it was grabbed easily by the man in front of me and thrown to the side.

  “Nice try,” the man mocked and smacked me hard across the face, the force of which sending me crashing to my knees while I clutched my cheek.

  That wasn’t supposed to happen

  They hauled me up and off the floor, each man clutching one of my arms while I flailed about. They were tying a gag around my neck as I screamed and struggled to break free but I was making it as difficult as I could for them. Only when they began tying me up, binding my hands and feet together, did I start to feel the panic set in. They were so much bigger and stronger than me, how could I ever escape?

  All I wanted to know was what they wanted from me, but I couldn’t even speak anymore, just grunted and made some incoherent noises through the gag.

  I was lifted up into a pair of arms and kicked my legs out in vain, trying to get loose even though I knew there was no point. The man smacked me mildly on the side, not as hard as the other guy, but enough for me to understand and stop my squirming. I’d save my energy for escape later.

  “Got a little fight in her, aye Dex?” One of the men leered.

  “Wonder if we have time to teach this one a lesson?” another man responded.

  I froze solid in the man’s arm, going limp so quickly that he almost dropped me.

  “Look at that, I think she likes that idea,” he taunted.

  “Hurry up, boys! We’re late!” The third man shouted and I thanked whatever god was up above for saving me just in time
.

  The doors to the back of the van were opened and I was thrown carelessly inside where I rolled once before hitting the inner wall with a thud. Just before they shut the doors in on me, I caught sight of the logo on one of the men’s jacket.

  Nightmare MC.

  My heart immediately sank and I tried to slow my panting despite how restricting the gag was. If the Nightmares were here, then that meant taking me was revenge. Revenge against Rocky.

  Something had gone wrong with the hit on Steele, there was no mistaking it now. Maybe they’d made a mess of it and word got back to the club. Maybe Rocky wasn’t even alive anymore. Maybe he was tied up somewhere just like I was, struggling to get free. If the latter were true, then maybe I was going off to meet him now.

  There was no use in panicking I reminded myself. Everything would be just fine. Think happy thoughts. My self pep talk was slowly starting to fail, leaving me cold and shaking on the cold metal as the van sped through turns and knocked me from side to side.

  I couldn’t hold back the sob that emerged from my chest at that moment. I was tied up and alone in the back of the van, heading off to god knows where with nobody coming to rescue me.

  It was going to be a long ride.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rocky

  I made it back to the shop in record time, flinging the front door wide open as I raced in.

  “Daria?”

  Something put me immediately on guard though I couldn’t identify it straight away. Maybe she’s have gone home to the hotel, but I seriously doubted it.

  “Daria, are you here?”

  Surely things weren’t usually so chaotic in the shop. It looked like there had been some kind of scuffle, things knocked over and not in the right place, tools seemingly thrown aside. I was usually pretty messy around the shop but Daria wasn’t, and this wasn’t the usual kind of mess I was accustomed to.

  Panicking would do no good, I reminded myself and thought about where next to look. The clubhouse seemed the next logical place though most of me was begging not to go there. Cameron would be there, and I was still grappling with the idea that he was not the man I thought he was. It couldn’t have all been a lie though. Surely some part of him was still my uncle.

  He’d promised not too long ago to protect Daria with everything he had and I could only hope that he’d kept at least one of his promises. It took me minutes to reach the clubhouse, not wanting to waste any valuable time if there was any trouble.

  I had to admit that I stood outside for several moments before I worked up the courage to go in.

  “This is about Daria,” I said to myself. “Just do it.”

  I stiffened my shoulders and marched in. “Cameron?” I called out.

  “Rocky. How was the meet?” I looked over at Cameron, standing there as confident as ever and almost burst right then and there.

  “We were completely ambushed. Michael snitched on us, we were no match for them. Garcia is dead.”

  The lack of emotion on his face caused the rage I had tried so hard to supress to rise up within me in a tidal wave and threaten to choke me.

  Daria first. She’s more important. I would get my revenge on Cameron soon enough, but only after I found out what had happened to Daria.

  “Garcia is dead? No shit,” he said.

  “Yeah. Have you seen Daria?” I asked suddenly. I didn’t have time for any bullshit.

  One look at his face told me it wasn’t good news.

  I ran through a mental list of possibilities of what was wrong. Was she hurt? Did she get into an accident? Why hadn’t Cameron told me as soon as I’d arrived?

  The last question could be answered with a simple ‘it’s Cameron’ but I was still concerned over Daria and where she could’ve gotten disappeared.

  “Now don’t you go getting crazy about this, okay?”

  Christ. Now I knew something was the matter.

  “About what? What happened? Is she okay?” I fired off my questions one after the other, my rage building up as I advanced on Cameron.

  “Tell me!” I roared. There was nothing more infuriating than being in a situation that was dire and having someone like Cameron try to stop you or slow you down just to prove his point.

  “Take a breath and step back,” Cameron said calmly. “You shouldn’t get worked up over this.”

  There was very little that could convince me at that point to stop my hands from going to his neck and squeezing the life from him. If it weren’t the fact that only he knew about what had happened to Daria, he’d already be dead. Instead of choking him like I’d prefer, I lifted my hands to clutch the collar of his shirt, pulling him up towards me.

  “Tell. Me. Now.” I enunciated in a carefully controlled voice.

  Cameron sighed but complied.

  “They took her.”

  “What do you mean?” I was a hairsbreadth away from exploding.

  “The Nightmares took her.”

  All the anger immediately drained from me and was replaced with a freezing shot of fear. I let go of Cameron immediately, and he righted his shirt with a huff. How could this have happened? How could I have let her be taken? I should’ve anticipated an attack and sent her somewhere safe. Instead, I’d knowingly left her in the shop, unprotected and alone. She was the perfect target for a kidnapping so I wasn’t sure why I was as shocked as I was.

  “We have to get her back,” I said with determination. “We don’t know what they’ll do to her.”

  Scenes of Daria beaten up and bloodied, lying motionless on a cold floor flashed before my eyes and immediately strengthened my resolve.

  “Let’s head out now.”

  I was grouping Cameron with me. As far as I was concerned, there was no way he would get out of this without helping. The only thing keeping him alive was the fact that Daria was gone and I knew I might need his help.

  “We can’t just storm the clubhouse. That’ll be a disaster. Our men won’t get one foot inside the door before we get blown to pieces. They’ve got more firepower than us, and the advantage of being in the clubhouse. Is Jason still alive?”

  “Shot in the arm, but alive.”

  “We can’t have a full out war with them with Jason still alive. If he wasn’t then we’d have a chance while they’re still scrambling to work without him.”

  Of course, it would all come back to Jason. I could see now how eager Cameron was to get rid of him, no matter what the reason, but I had to admit he was right. I grudgingly agreed with Cameron, feeling more helpless than I’d ever been.

  “Are you going to call Corinne?”

  “Yeah,” I sighed. That was one conversation I wished I could put off forever. “I’ll call her.”

  Dialling Corinne’s number, a strong pulse of fear went through me, one that almost overpowered the guilt that had been riding me ever since I woke up this morning.

  Corinne would kill me.

  There was no way this phone conversation would end in anything else. I made a promise to Corinne that I would protect her baby girl and I didn’t. Not even close. In fact, I may as well have served her up to the Nightmares on a silver platter.

  It wasn’t supposed to go this way. None of this was supposed to go this way. How was I supposed to tell Daria’s mom that her daughter was taken and may or may not be alive at this very moment. Especially after we’d spent so long trying to convince her that there was no place safer than the protection of the club.

  Cameron coughed loudly and stared pointedly at the phone in my hands. “Having trouble, son?”

  “I’m not your son,” I ground out, turning on my heel and going to a quieter location in one of the other rooms. I couldn’t deal with him right now.

  I held my breath waiting for Corinne to pick up.

  Come on. Please pick up. Please pick up.

  “Hello?” Corinne said.

  My mouth was open and ready to form words but no sound was coming out. I felt like a goldfish opening and closing my mouth to no avail.


  “Hello?” she repeated, a little impatiently this time.

  “Corinne.” My voice was low and guttural, as if I’d been swallowing glass my entire life.

  “Rocky? Is that you?”

  “Yeah it’s me. Corinne, I—”

  “Rocky Weston,” she interrupted. “You better not be calling to tell me Daria is hurt!”

  My silence spoke volumes, as did her deep gasp of breath and the hitch in her voice when she spoke next.