A Dirty Lion

by Faye Byrd

  “He failed her, Mar,” I respond, devastation rocketing through me. “I failed her.”

  “Stop that.” She gives my face a little shake. “I’m not hearing it. She knows you, and that means she knows you’re coming for her, so I suggest you get on that.”

  I chuckle despite myself and lean down to kiss her cheek. “You’re right, Mar. Thanks.” I take a deep breath and turn my gaze toward where Wyndall has settled Jameson into a chair. I can’t stop myself from glaring as I stalk toward them, but I do my best to push the hatred down. It really is on me for trusting his weak ass. “I take it you can fucking speak now?”

  Jameson clears his throat and nods as he says, “I’m sorry, Enzo. I didn’t see them coming.”

  “Obviously,” I say, backhanding him. His face jerks to the side, and I tamp down my rage as I pace beside him. “Is there anything you can say to keep me from killing you?”

  “Blue van,” he hurries out. “A Wolf and a woman.”

  “Did you recognize her?” I pace methodically.

  He pauses, closing his eyes. “It’s like I know who she is, but I can’t place her.”

  “Describe her,” I urge, keeping my tone even.

  “Tall and slim with white-blonde, spiky hair,” he says, blood dribbling from his lips. “She actually made eye contact as she helped load Randi into the van. It was like she was making sure I saw what was happening.”

  “Get him a napkin,” I say to Wyndall as I bob my head. “So she’s not any of the girls we’ve pegged as Wolf associates?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope.”

  “Age? Height?”

  His eyes squint as he tries harder to place her. “Late twenties, I’d say, and five foot eight or nine, maybe. It feels like I’ve seen her somewhere …”

  I draw back and bust that motherfucker dead in his goddamn nose. “Does that refresh your fucking memory?” I yell, standing over him. “Or do you need a-fucking-nother?” Bob gets up, but I point his way. “Stay out of this, Robert. I respect the hell out of you, but this is my fucking MC.”

  “And the Lions have rules,” he rebuts, staying put. “Jameson’s life isn’t yours to take. Not without a vote.”

  I narrow my eyes. I fucking know this, but Jameson goddamn doesn’t, so I don’t appreciate Bob ratting me out. The motherfucker in this chair needs to think I’m going to kill him, or he won’t try to remember as hard as he should. And there has to be a clue some-fucking-where among the clutter.

  I sneer at Bob as I grip Jameson’s cropped hair in my fist and pull his head so far back it makes his throat close in on itself. “Where have you seen her?”

  He coughs and sputters, but it isn’t until his eyes light up that I release him and step back. “Tell me,” I say, speaking as if I didn’t just attempt to break his fucking neck.

  “Hospital,” he sputters between gasping, coughy breaths. “She works there.”

  “Wait a minute,” Mad Dog says, standing and pulling out his phone as he approaches us. “Is this her?” He shoves it in Jameson’s face.

  As soon as he sets eyes on the picture, Jameson starts nodding like a madman. “Yes, her. That’s her.”

  Mad Dog turns to me then. “It’s Rhonda Tanner,” he says, showing me the image. “She’s a nurse at the hospital. We met a few weeks back, and I hit that shit.” My eyes flick from the image to Mad Dog, and I lift a doubtful fucking brow. This chick is way too hot for his fat ass. He shakes his head, smirking. “Anyway, she passed me a letter through Wyndall’s girl at the diner earlier. I thought it was weird, but it makes a little more sense now.” He pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket, holding it out for me to read. “She must be in trouble.”

  Maddy,

  I know this will seem strange, but it was the only way I could contact you. I need to see you. No one else can know. As soon as you get this, you should sneak into my house while the neighborhood sleeps, and bring a friend.

  Always,

  Rhonda

  “And you didn’t think this was important?” I ask, my mind already adapting to this new information. “Sneak in and bring a friend? Jesus, Maddy, it didn’t cross your mind that she might be trying to tell you something?”

  “What?” He shrugs. “I thought she wanted to have a threesome.”

  “Clearly, she doesn’t,” Wyndall says, coming up beside me. “Jackson must have something on her.”

  Mad Dog’s face goes from normal dumbfuck to red, enraged fucker in a flat second. “I’ll kill that piece of shit!” He slams his meaty fist into his palm. “He must’ve threatened Katie.”

  “Who’s Katie?” I ask, not interested in another rescue. Getting Randi back safely is going to be hard enough.

  “Rhonda’s two-year-old daughter.”

  “Shit. We need to get her out of Crescent City,” I respond, trying to make a plan on the fly.

  “What about Rhonda?” Mad Dog asks. “She’ll be in more danger if we remove his leverage.”

  “She fucking stays,” I say, not feeling sorry in the least. “Coerced or not, she got Randi into this mess, and she’s going to help get her out.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Burn in Hell

  Randi

  Prickles race over my skin as the effects of the drug ebb. My jaw aches from disuse, and I stretch it open as I look around the sparsely decorated room. I’ve been hauled in and left alone with only a whispered promise from Rhonda that she’ll do everything in her power to help me. There are no windows to give me a sense of time passing, but I do know Enzo is planning my escape along with the murder of every Wolf in this tin casket.

  My muscles are tense, but at least they allow me to fucking move, and I work my way into a sitting position. A headache lingers, throbbing at the back of my skull and making me appreciative of the low lighting. Familiar voices sound outside my door, and I bolster myself up, ready to stand my fucking ground.

  It’s Stevie whose face I see first as the door swings open, and my hands ball into fists. “What the fuck’s going on here?” I demand, swinging my legs over the edge of the twin-sized bed. “Where’s that bastard at?” I try to stand, but I’m not quite able to hold my own weight.

  “I’m here,” Jackson announces as he enters behind Stevie, shutting the door. “You didn’t think I’d let you enjoy my accommodations without making a personal appearance, did you?”

  “Fuck you,” I snap, aware that I’m goading him but not giving a shit. He doesn’t have the balls to kill me. “You should let me go now and run. Save yourself.”

  He throws his head back and laughs, but I can hear the fucking shake in it. “Is that what you think, Randi?” he taunts, clasping his hands behind his back. “You think that pathetic Lion is going to be able to rescue you?”

  I scowl. “He’s going to rip you to shreds.”

  Jack takes two steps and slaps me across the face. “In your fucking dreams, bitch!” he yells, drawing back again. “You see I took you, don’t you? You’re here, and that’s where you’ll stay, unless I let Anton keep you permanently.” He punctuates his words with a backhand, this one jerking my head to the side. “You’ll never see your Lion again.”

  “Fuck you!” I rage, jumping at him on shaky legs. I reach for his smirking face and dig in my claws, peeling away skin. “You’re fucking dead, you piece of shit.” I slap and kick and punch. “He’s going to blow your goddamn brains out.”

  Jack’s large hand closes around my throat, and my breath is choked off as he lifts me into the air. I still fight, planting my foot in his groin and landing on my knees as he drops to the floor to grip his aching balls. Quickly, I stand and knee him in the chin, pushing him over and running, but my old friend Stevie is blocking the door.

  “I can’t let you go, Ran,” he says, his expression pleading with me to sit down and obey.

  Not on his fucking life.

  “Get out of my way,” I demand before rearing my Converse-clad foot back and kicking him in the shin. “I won’t be his f
ucking prisoner.”

  “Dammit, Miranda,” Stevie says, obviously in pain. “You’re not leaving this room.”

  I lose my shit then, attacking him with the same fervor I just shelled out to his leader. I probably only have seconds to get out that door before Jack is on me again and whatever he does won’t be pretty. Punching, kicking, clawing, and spitting, I do everything in my power to get past Stevie. Relief soars through me when I finally pull open the door. Only it’s short-lived as the wooden panel is slammed shut, catching my fingers in the process.

  “Shit!” I hiss, cradling them to my chest.

  But that’s nothing compared to being yanked up by my hair and slung through the air. My body slams into the side of the bed, bouncing off the mattress and collapsing to the floor in a heap. I groan as I try to push myself up only to have a heavy boot stomp on the back of my neck, pushing my face into the concrete. My teeth grind against the floor as I scream and curse, spitting dust and venom while not being able to do a goddamn thing.

  “I’ll let you up when you stop fighting,” Jack says, his voice eerily calm. “Until then, you can eat dirt.”

  I squirm and yell and push, and none of it works. His foot stays in place just tight enough to keep me pinned to the floor. When I realize I don’t possess the strength required to get out of this predicament, I still, angry as hell and plotting my revenge.

  “Let me up,” I say, my voice muffled by the concrete. “I’ll stop fighting.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Jack snarls, leaning down so I can hear his sinister voice more clearly. “If I release you and you fight, I’m going to hurt you in a more personal way.”

  A flash of horror skates across my skin, causing me to break into a cold sweat. You can catch more flies with honey, Miranda, I remind myself as I get ready to play the submissive. All I have to do is hold on because I know with every cell in my body that Enzo is coming for me.

  “I’ll be good,” I say in the meekest voice I possess, inhaling cement dust. I may have to kill this fucker myself. “I promise I won’t fight anymore, Jackson. Please.”

  I close my eyes as the pressure intensifies before releasing entirely. It takes me several minutes to work my sore, aching body into a sitting position before pulling myself up onto the bed. It’s highly possible he’s beat the fight out of me. Every inch of my body hurts, and I can barely see out of my right eye.

  I’m pushed to my back by a hand gripping my throat, and his body hovers above me. “I always saw you as a little girl pretending to be a woman, but maybe I was wrong,” Jack says, his eyes roaming my tank-top-and-booty-short-wearing, badly beaten ass. “Maybe the most powerful weapon I have against the Lion is taking what he thinks is his alone.” I guess the fight hasn’t been beat out of me yet because I reach for his face, trying to claw out his eyes, but he presses down on my throat, robbing me of air. “You must want to be fucked, Miranda.”

  He reaches down with his free hand and pushes up the hem of my tank. My body twists and turns from a combination of the loss of air and the feel of his hands on me. I open my mouth to scream, and not a sound leaves my lips. Darkness dances around the edges of my vision, and fear wraps its icy cold fist around my heart and squeezes.

  Stevie’s face appears like a beacon of light as he grabs Jack’s shoulder and tugs, causing the grip to loosen and precious air to fill my lungs. I gulp in huge gasps as the two men tussle among themselves. The ringing in my ears makes their voices sound muffled and far away, but the tension between them is thick. I breathe a sigh of relief when Jack shoots me a scowl and storms from the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Stevie frowns as he settles on the bed beside me, his touch gentle as he brushes my hair from my face. “Don’t rile him up again, Ran, or I’ll let him do what he wants.”

  “Fuck you,” I choke out, my throat tight and sore. “You’re all going to die.”

  He doesn’t speak right away, instead standing and making his way across the room. With his fingers on the light switch, he says, “You should hope we make it through this. Because if your Lion kills a single one of us, our orders are to kill you first thing.” He flips the switch, smothering the room in darkness. “Goodnight, Miranda.”

  The door closes with a creak, and the tears come.

  I’m awoken sometime later, not by Enzo’s rescue effort but by Rhonda. “Miranda,” she whisper-shouts as she shakes my shoulder. “Get up. Hurry.”

  My mind is clouded, but the urgency in her voice propels me to give in to her prodding. “What’s going on?” I ask, hissing as my throat throbs.

  “We have to move away from the wall,” she says urgently, tugging me off of the bed. “All hell’s about to break loose.”

  As Rhonda and I huddle in the corner, my body broken and sore, a smile tugs at my lips. Enzo is here, and they’re all going to regret ever laying eyes in me.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Mine to Take

  Enzo

  Early the next morning—three a.m. to be fucking exact—Mad Dog and I park the box truck three streets over and slink through back yards and alleyways as we make our way to Nurse Tanner’s home. It’s a smart move too, as a quick peek around the corner reveals a Harley parked out front with one of the Wolf mutts kicked back, sleeping like a fucking inadequate idiot.

  She’s left the back door unlocked and we creep inside, silence dictating our every movement. Mad Dog leads the way to the farthest room down the hall, and Rhonda sits up in the darkness as soon as the door creaks open.

  “Who’s there?” she whispers, her voice shaky.

  “It’s me.” Mad Dog’s across the room and cradling her against his beer belly in no time. “I’ve brought Enzo with me. He’s the Lion president.”

  “And Randi’s Old Man,” I add, whisper-growling. “So you should probably get to explaining what the fuck happened to my woman.”

  She breaks into tears almost immediately as she explains what Jackoff forced her to do by threatening her daughter’s life. She blubbers on Mad Dog’s Cut as she apologizes over and over for being a part of Randi’s abduction. I want to hate her, blame her, put a bullet between her fucking eyes even, but I can sympathize with a single woman giving in to stupid demands with her child’s life at risk.

  “What’s your routine?” I ask, pacing in the darkness. “Do you have work? Are you expected back in Pacific Shores tomorrow?”

  “I was forced to take a week off.” She sniffles, wiping her snotty nose with her arm. “I’m supposed to drop Katie at the daycare center and report to the Wolf clubhouse in the morning. There’s a prospect sitting outside now to make sure I do as I’m told.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Mad Dog stands, the shadow of him cocking his gun catching my eye. “I’ll take this dipshit out now.”

  “Hold the fuck up,” I say, keeping my voice low but commanding. “The Werewolves have to assume everything is working like clockwork in order for us to catch them off guard.” I pause, pushing down my rising ire. “Are you telling me that this plan has been in motion long enough for you to take time off from work?”

  “Two days ago,” she whisper-croaks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to help him.” She breaks into tears again. “But I couldn’t risk my Katie.”

  “Shhh,” Mad Dog soothes, speaking softly. “Why didn’t you try to get in touch with me sooner?”

  “I left the note the first day, but I couldn’t take any chances,” she says, lifting her head to meet his eyes in the darkness. “I made Amy promise not to give it to anyone but you.”

  “Makes sense.” He nods. “I haven’t been by the diner at all this week, until today.”

  As much as I despise letting this slide, I need to move on from the hows and whys. “Fuck the back story,” I say, breaking into their little pow-wow. “None of that helps Randi. We need to concentrate on tomorrow and how we’re going to get her back.”

  Rhonda sniffles. “I’ll do anything you need.”

  “Good,” I say, nodding. “
So Katie will have to go to daycare, only when you go inside, I’ll have Marianne there waiting to get her. As soon as you and your escort have gone, she’ll take her back to the safety of the clubhouse.”

  “Wait a minute,” Rhonda says, mama bear tone in full force. “How do I know I can trust this Marianne person with my baby? If Jackson discovers I’ve betrayed him, he’ll kill her.”

  “He won’t know where she is, for one,” I say, holding up a finger, though she probably can’t see it. “And for another, Jackson will never leave his fucking clubhouse again.”

  “And what about Miranda and me?” she asks, her voice cracking. “Will we make it out of there?”

  “Randi is my number fucking one priority, so I suggest you stick to her like glue,” I say, moving closer to huddle together so I can share my plan. “So here’s what’s gonna happen …”

  We discuss her morning in detail for the next ten minutes, and I leave feeling confident Randi will be safe and secure until I reach her—if she’s safe now, which Rhonda assures me she is. Whether I believe her is still to be determined, but I try like hell to imagine my woman untouched by nasty Wolf hands.

  Our next stop is the Dawson house, and we go about it in the same manner—parking a few streets over, sneaking through back yards, and picking the lock on the back door.

  Except it gets yanked open and a .45 is shoved in my face. “You could’ve just knocked,” Rodney says, lowering the weapon.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” I smirk, shrugging. “Besides, who sits in the fucking dark anyway?”

  “A sheriff with a kidnapped daughter and a possible target on his back.” The legs of a chair scrape against the wooden floor as he pulls it away from the table. “Have a seat. Did you speak with the witness?”

  “I fucking did,” I say, not bothering with the seat. “And the details have been fine-tuned.”

  “Just tell me my part so we can get my daughter back.”

  And I fucking do. By the time I leave, there’s a decisive plan of action, and we’re in clear agreement of what matters most—Randi’s life. Before any of the Wolves die, she’ll be removed from the clubhouse, and then it’s open fucking season. This whole goddamn pack is about to become extinct.