Breathing His Air (32 page)

“Where is she?” He stepped forward.

Sanchez threw off the covers. “Who?”

“Don’t move.” He motioned with the pistol. “Tori. Where is she, and who’s with her?”

“I assume you’ve lost her.” Sanchez shook his head. “You’ve underestimated her, amigo. You can’t make a woman cry and expect she’ll be fine.”

“I don’t need your bullshit. Tori’s gone, it looks like someone tore my house apart, and if I find out anyone has hurt a single hair on her head, I’ll kill him and you. The police are involved, and you had better hope they find her first, because I’m not going to be asking questions when I find her. My men are ten minutes ahead of them. I have no problem taking each of your men down one by one to find Tori.” He moved to the bed and placed the barrel of the gun at Sanchez’s temple. “Now, answer my question. Where is she?”

Sanchez looked him in the eyes, cocky and without blinking. “I have no idea.”

“Did you order someone to take her?”

“No.” Sanchez’s answer came fast and sure.

“If you’re shitting me, I — ”

“Get your phone out. I’m going to give you a number, and I want you to listen carefully.” Sanchez’s gaze never wavered. When Rain hesitated, he continued. “You’ll get all your answers with one phone call. Then I’ll talk.”

He walked backward, aware of every move Sanchez made. Without taking his gaze off the bed, he felt around in his back pocket and removed his phone.

Time was of the essence, and if Sanchez was jerking him around, he’d pay. He had no idea how long ago someone had ripped Tori from their home. A second was too long. Standing here arguing with Sanchez wasn’t helping Tori. They were running out of time.

“Call 503-555-1212. Give them the number 742981.” Sanchez brought his foot up and rested his ankle on his knee, unaffected by the fact he sat in his boxers with a gun trained on him.

He dialed the number, glancing from keypad to bed, but Sanchez never moved. “742 … ”

“981,” said Sanchez.

He repeated the numbers. A computerized voice came over the line. He stared at Sanchez in disbelief. The recording told him something he never in his life would’ve expected. Raul Sanchez was a federal agent.

He lowered the gun. “Talk.”

“I was initiated into the Lagsturns four years ago and worked my way into the lead position, going undercover to take down who was behind the drug runs. I don’t want the riders, but the boss behind hiring the riders.” Sanchez stood up, walked across the room, and slipped his legs in his jeans. “I’m damn close, and you stand between me keeping my job or getting killed for being a narc. To tell you the truth, I’m not ready to die.”

“What do you know about Tori?” He slid the pistol into the holster at his side.

“Until you kicked in my door … nothing.” Sanchez pulled his T-shirt over his head. “I don’t know who is behind the trouble you’ve received. It’s no one in the Lagsturns.”

“You’re not saying that to save your job?”

“No.” He took a pistol out from the nightstand and slipped it in the back of his pants. “I care about Tori. Tell me what you know.”

The new information about Sanchez was hard to process on top of his worry for Tori. The only thing he could do is trust him.

“I came home to an open door, the alarm shut off, and a mess in my living room with signs of a struggle,” he said. “My first guess of who was behind it was you and Crystal.”

“Crystal?” Sanchez shook his head. “I haven’t been with her for over six months.”

“Doesn’t matter now. One of my men sent her out of town with a one-way ticket. She gave him a message for me,” Rain moved toward the door.

“Which was?”

He turned. “‘It’s Ethan’.”

Sanchez frowned, and a flash of anger narrowed his eyes. “She was running from him?”

“I don’t know. She was scared, but the message was to me. All she said is ‘It’s Ethan’. I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about, and I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“I do.” Sanchez tied his boots.

“Who?”

“A lowlife crack head that rides with the Lagsturns, but stays by himself.” He stood and grabbed his jacket. “He’s the reason I’ve stayed in Pitnam. He’s a loose cannon. I thought staying in one place longer would force him to slip up. Some of the other riders are questioning his devotion to the club but so far, he’s the only definite contact I have to who is operating the drug runs. I need that bastard around to get the job done. Without him, I’ll never take them down or get out of working under cover.”

Rain’s body radiated with energy. “Where can I find him?” He was close to finding Tori. He could feel it.

“I’ll take you.” Sanchez lifted his chin. “I only ask that we talk afterward, so I can prepare myself for what you’re going to do with the truth you’ve learned here, amigo.”

“Help me get Tori, and I’ll let you live. I don’t care if you’re a Fed, I want my woman.”

Sanchez slapped him on the shoulder. “Get a hold of yourself. Think with a clear head, forget about Tori being your woman, and stay focused.”

He blew out a breath before he said, “Right.”

“Tap it down.”

“Yeah.”

He tried to take Sanchez’s advice and bury his fear. He’d have to remain in control to get Tori back safe and right now, she needed him. “Let’s go.”

Since he owned the hotel, Rain took Sanchez down the employees’ elevator and to the back door. He called Torque, who hotwired Sanchez’s ride and brought it to the delivery door where Rain opened the overhead door and let him drive inside.

“Go out Beech Street and turn on Elm. My riders will cover you, and I’ll meet you on Elm and Seventh. You take the lead from there.” He walked backward as he continued. “How far away are we from Tori?”

“Ten minutes, tops.” Sanchez threw his leg over the seat of his motorcycle. “Five if that hog of yours runs better than it looks.”

Rain turned around and spoke over his shoulder. “I’d bet my bike on it.”

All through town, he spotted only one cruiser. He stopped long enough to get an update with Stellor, and ditched the officer after two blocks. On Seventh Street, he pulled in behind Sanchez. He held out his arm, low to the ground, two fingers to the wind, and hit the throttle.

If he didn’t know better, he’d believe Sanchez was leading him on a wild goose chase. But Sanchez’s job was on the line. It was almost impossible to infiltrate a biker club, with all the background checks, twenty-four/seven companionship, and a unique talent of sniffing out the police. Sanchez’s life was in his hands.

If Lagsturns found out Sanchez was a Fed, they’d take him to ground.

Two miles later, Sanchez pulled to the curb and hopped off his bike. Rain joined him, shutting off his engine. A vacant lot sat to his right, a mini mart to his left. Unsurprisingly, no one was around. He figured it was around three in the morning.

His gut ached. Tori should be home sleeping, curled up against him, his hand on her breast
. Hang in there, babe.

He stepped onto the sidewalk. “Where?”

“One block over. The California Inn, room C — ”

“Yeah, been there,” he said.

Sanchez raised his brow. “Don’t piss me off and tell me you’ve dealt with him before.”

“No. Crystal. He answered the door. I remember her calling him by name now. Stringy-looking guy.”

“Yeah, that’s him. I don’t know how she ended up shacked up with him after I kicked her ass to the curb. I expected her to disappear and go far away.” Sanchez walked, pointing in front of him. “We’ll have to go in on foot, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s wired. I’m not talking bugs, either.”

“Shit.” He wanted to run and bust inside. Being hyped up on dummy dust would make the asshole unpredictable. “Weapons?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll get the son of a bitch.” He unzipped his jacket, making it easier to retrieve his pistol.

“I’ll have your back, amigo.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Ethan continued his incessant muttering as he paced from the only window in the motel room, to the couch, to Tori. She closed her eyes, trying to understand what the ramblings meant. He jumped from thought to declaration quicker than she could process.

Numbness in her limbs at least made standing bearable. She no longer struggled with the pain, but if she opened her eyes, she’d see the blood smeared around her wrists and down her fingers from where she’d continually struggled against the handcuffs. She’d hoped the blood would allow her to squeeze her hands free, but her hands had gone numb before she succeeded.

“You don’t know the truth.” Ethan talked in a high-pitched voice, screwing up his face. “From that first time, I knew that asshole was capable of killing my mother. He poisoned her mind against me.”

That wasn’t true. Her father’s agenda was protecting her mom and Tori against harming others. They had to practice keeping themselves from sharing too much, becoming too close to the people in their lives, and depending on them. She shifted her weight, and pain shot up her calves.

Demented, probably mentally imbalanced, her father thought he was protecting them. It was never about keeping Ethan out of their lives. Dad had needed medical help, and maybe her mom had remained hopeful he’d snap out of it — she could only guess — but her father’s mental state only grew worse, not better.

Cold pain pierced her jaw. She opened her eyes, frantic and scared Ethan would catch her off guard again.

Get out of your head, babe.
Rain’s voice, so clear and strong, whispered in her ear.

Rain? Rain! I need you.

“You need to die. Payback for what your father did to my mother.” Ethan pulled at her hair, jabbing the gun into the underside of her chin. “I’ll make everything right again. You’re just like him.”

Classy. Sexy.
The laughter in Rain’s voice seemed real.
You’re whacked, babe. Perfect for me. Don’t ever change.

“I’m not,” she whispered.

“What did you say, bitch?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. Dad was sick.” She used every ounce of strength she had left to look him in the eyes. “He was sick. There was nothing wrong with me or Mom, except that we loved him and hoped we’d wake up one morning to have the man we loved back with us.”

“Shut up,” Ethan screamed. “You could’ve stopped him. You didn’t, and my mom died because you did nothing. Nothing but saving your own life that’s worth nothing. It’s your fault.”

“She was my mom too … ” She pulled against the chain. “A tragic thing happened, but it did not have anything to do with me. At. All.”

His hand came out of nowhere before she could duck her head. Sharp pain exploded in an already tender and abused face. She fell to her knees. Standing up for herself was the wrong approach to calm Ethan down, but she wouldn’t change how she reacted.

She would not go down letting Ethan ruin her. Someone had to stand up and show him he was wrong.

On hands and knees, her head hanging between her arms, she continued. “It was not my fault.”

He kicked her ribs. She sprawled on the linoleum. The cold floor felt wonderful against her cheek. She closed her eyes and murmured, “It was not my fault. I loved them.”

Metal sliding against metal with a snap warned her that Ethan had slid back the cocking mechanism of the pistol, loading a bullet into the chamber. Instead of panic, calm swept through her. Relief the nightmare would end, and she wouldn’t have to think any longer.

She’d lived in fear, running for that safe place she’d lost when she was twelve years old and carried out of the house and into an ambulance. Now it was over.

She’d die where the nightmare began. Under the table, bleeding, defending her right to love her father, her mother.

Rain.

Oh, God, she’d miss his bossy ways and the way he made her feel safe, loved, and protected. She opened her eyes and focused on the closed door of the motel room. She willed Rain to come in and save her. In her heart, she knew he would have, if he knew where Ethan held her captive. She knew that with every cell of her being.

Breathe, babe. Air is all around you. You’ll feel it, and you’ll know.

She inhaled deeply, her ribs protesting the movement, the sound heavy in the room. Nothing, no one, not even Ethan, would take her ability to breathe away. She pushed her hands against the floor, swaying on her knees. Reaching up to the table, she struggled to pull herself to her feet. She would not let Ethan take her out of this life.

She had a future with Rain. She wanted to go to sleep in his arms every night and listen to him tell her to stop talking. She wanted to give him children he could fiercely protect and love. Most of all, she wanted to protect him from losing her.

With the last bit of strength she held on to, by sheer hope that she’d see Rain again, she turned slowly toward Ethan. The door banged open. Her lungs deflated.

Rain took up the whole room.

She fell to her knees with his name on her lips.

Bang!

No! She sobbed, diving for Ethan.

Bang!

• • •

Rain only had eyes for Tori. Hurrying to her side, he barely felt Sanchez push him aside and Ethan’s pistol go off. Nothing stopped him from reaching her. Not even the other shot.

Ethan dove to the other side of the room. He skidded on his knees beside Tori, grasping her shoulders and forcing her to look at him.

“I got you.” He ran his fingers over her swollen cheek. “Shit, baby.”

“Let’s get her free, amigo.” Sanchez moved toward the table and kicked the top, grunting. “Damn … you’ll have to help.”

He glanced over his shoulder. Sanchez clutched his arm, pain etched in his eyes.

“Are you hit?” Rain stood and grabbed the edges of the table.

“Not a concern, amigo.” Sanchez looked toward Tori. “Let’s get her loose.”

In one heave, the table came apart from the floor and toppled into the wall. Rain reached for Sanchez, peeling back his jacket. “Arm?”

“I’ll survive.” He nodded at Tori. “You’ll have to call this in. Get her to the hospital and get that pile of shit into custody.”

Sanchez’s shot had hit Ethan in the right upper chest. Rain held the weight of the chains off Tori’s wrists and dug in his pants for the cell.