In Bed With The Outlaw (14 page)

Seeing Red so concerned, curious about any problem I might face, and ready to tackle it with me, how could I turn him away? He deeply cared for me. There was no doubt in my mind that this man would take a bullet for me. Who else would?

“Red, there’s something we need to talk about.”

“No kidding, that’s why I’m here. Spit it out.” The wind picked up, blowing the tail of his hair. He didn’t flinch.

“I’m an FBI agent,” I spat out. He didn’t process it. “I was sent here to investigate you. To investigate The Blessed Bastards.”

My heart dropped to my gut and wrung out. I was being crushed, my vision narrowing. If I didn’t get a grip, I would pass out before I could see his reaction.

He cracked a smile. Then he burst out laughing, slapping his thighs he thought it was so funny.

“That’s good. That’s really good,” Red said.

“No, Red, I’m telling the truth. I have a microphone on right now.”

He kept laughing, but when he saw my reaction his eyebrows skewered and he pointed at me.

“Show me.”

Red still thought this was some kind of joke, one with an elaborate setup. Taking my shirt, I picked it up to my bra line to show him the wires.

“You’re not fucking kidding,” he said, taking a step back.

“No.”

He looked at me like I was cursed, like he didn’t know me. Once again, he put up his wall, blocking me out. The man that loved me turned to me with hate. There was so much pain and anger in that threatening flash that I was drained, unable to explain myself further.

What was there to explain? This was it. It was over.

Not only would I not have a job, I would be turning away the first man who truly loved me. The first man I could truly love back.

“How could you do this to me?”

The look on his face, I thought he might be willing to kill me. Was that protocol for The Bastards? The last agent who tried to infiltrate hadn’t made it out alive. Why should I be any different? If anything, I deserved a far worse fate. I played with a killer’s heart.

Exasperated, I picked up my hands, about to say something, but they fell. There was nothing to say.

“Why?” He pulled away again.

“I didn’t know what it was like,” I began. “I didn’t know you would be so...nice.”

A weak reasoning, but it was the truth. I expected murderers. Scum. Villainy. Black and white. What I got was grey. Real people with real problems.

“Get out of here. Go. I don’t want to see you again,” he shouted. It was like his words were casting me out, burning a curse onto my back that I would never be able to shake.

“I’m sorry,” I said. My eyes hit the dirt. I started to turn away. I waited for him to respond.

My sorry didn’t help. He took an angry step forward. Tense, his hand shaking with rage, he pointed for me to return to my car.

“Go. Don’t let me see you again. I don’t want to see you near the club again, either, or anyone I know.”

That stung, biting into me, ripping me apart. That hole I was in before? Now I was buried. Heaviness weighing down my head, pressure erupting in my temples, I turned my back to him and hurried to my car. He watched me the entire time. His eyes were blazing, full of hate, and I didn’t blame him.

He should hate me.

I’m sorry
, I wanted to say again, but by the time I gripped the wheel, emotion crashed down on me. Hot tears flowed down my cheeks. I shifted to reverse and pulled away.

This was the end of my fantasy.

Slamming my fists against the wheel, I screamed at nothing once I was turned around. I pressed the wheel into my forehead and then lashed out again, but when it did nothing to help me, I shook off my anger. The depression was still there, the longing for what I used to have. I had been so lucky to have Red before. Did I even realize?

Loneliness which pulled me in wouldn’t let me go. Cast out, I drove back to my apartment. The drive back, in contrast to the drive there, involved a lot of racing thoughts.

Rain would come soon. A torrential downpour to nourish the blistering, cracked earth. Behind me, a wall of gray spread its dark tendrils across the blue sky.

I tried not to wallow in my pity. The least I could do, I told myself, was keep active, try to right my wrongs. There were currently a lot of new wrongs and maybe one right. Even though I did the right thing with Red, it still came back and bit me in the ass. More like a heavy biker boot to the ass, but whatever.

The first phase of my “keep active” plan involved getting to my apartment and not throwing myself onto the bed, where I would surely surrender to the pillows and wail my stupid heart out. Next step, the first actual action, would be to go to Francis’s and slip him a note that described why I would have to quit.

He deserved a goodbye, so writing my best goodbye to him, one which wouldn’t freak him out too much, I wrote, “Sorry, Francis. I’m really sorry to leave so suddenly, but something has come up back home in the east. I have to go back right away. Please don’t be worried. It’s nothing to be worried about. It’s a family thing. Thanks for all you’ve done for me. I wish you the best and I’m really sorry that I couldn’t give prior notice.”

I tucked the note in my pocket. I looked over my apartment. How long would I have before I was called back, before the cleanup crew came to disappear me? Probably not long.

The next step involved telling Wyatt the truth, which would be the hardest part. No, I wouldn’t tell him that I had fallen for a wickedly handsome bad boy on a motorcycle. If I told him that, he wouldn’t understand. If it was a wickedly hot motorcycle babe, maybe he would...actually, scratch that. Wyatt was all about the job. He would roast me no matter what I added after “I quit.”

A part of me was still rattled, still frightened that Red would tell someone else. I half expected someone to charge through my apartment and take me away. It could be any one of The Blessed Bastards. Maybe even an old lady. They would despise me as well.

And they had been so nice...

Focus, Ash, focus.
The thought of wasting another minute in that apartment drove me crazy, so I snatched my keys and headed out.

Red might’ve told me to leave, not because he hated me, but because he was worried about me. Could it have been a warning? That if I didn’t move fast enough, they would send someone to kill me? Maybe even Red himself, once they found out.

My sights were on the parked cars around my apartment. Freaked out, looking over my shoulder, I hurried to my car and jumped in. I slammed the door shut. Then I sped off to The Long Road.

As soon as I pulled away from my apartment, the dark clouds met me. The downpour began. I jumped at the first lightning strike in the distance.

Francis wasn’t there. Kim was, but she was busy. She would hear what happened later. Moving through the kitchen, one of the cooks yelled to me, “Hey, thought you had the day off?”
My last day, in fact
, wanted to roll of my tongue. Slipping the note on his desk, I quietly made my leave.

Wind pulled me sideways as I briskly walked to my car. Dark clouds surrounded the diner. It was a downpour, and I could barely make out the cars which blew past, their lights the only thing that managed to illuminate the dark. Throwing open my door, I was about to hop in when I noticed someone moving close.

They seemed to only be getting into their own vehicle, a black truck parked next to mine. The truck hadn’t been there when I parked earlier. But the man got too close. His presence weighed on the back of my neck. Knowing that something was wrong, I spun around.

The stranger, just a blur, but taller, bigger, and stronger than me, lunged.

I screamed. Something shoved against my lips and the scream only came out a muted whimper. Taking a step back, I attempted to reach down for my holster.

When I couldn’t reach, instead my arm was caught by his, and I was shoved against his truck, I knew that I was in a bad position. I resisted, trying to scream and kick. I tried to push his weight off me, but he was too powerful. I was rattled from how hard he struck my chest.

I knew my chances of survival would be drastically lowered if they put me in that truck. Thrashing, my teeth gnashing, I tried to escape, but he pulled my arms back and gave me an elbow to my back. What little air remained in my lungs seemed to be lit on fire and I breathed pure pain.

When my chest stopped throbbing, and I could breathe, the truck door was open. Another man hopped out.

I recognized this one.

The creepy guy from the diner. The bald one with the scars and all of the tattoos.

“Get in the trunk, bitch. You can kick and scream all you want. We’re not stopping until we get there.”

I kicked and I screamed. But the thunder and the downpour masked what was happening. I was parked on the side of the restaurant, the side which didn’t have a window for anyone to see.

They shoved me inside. Hard. The back of my head slammed against the bed. It was enough to keep my mouth shut. I reached, trying to get out, but they slammed the top down.

Desperate, I searched for a latch that was in most new vehicles. They must’ve removed it. This wasn’t the first time these guys had done something like this.

I kicked the roof. I was out of breath and drained. The truck reversed and then took off, skidding me around the trunk and whipping my back against it.

I learned quickly to keep myself against the corner, to brace myself against the sides so I didn’t roll. It didn’t give me much of a chance to escape, but there was no way to escape anyway.

Whoever they were, my chance of survival was low. They didn’t take women like me and then let them go.

It would be either I escaped...or they killed me.

T
he drive was mostly smooth
. We came to a rocky road. They only drove slower so their catch wouldn’t be killed. My stomach was still rolling and my nerves wrecked. There was something up my sleeve, something that I knew I had to use but dreaded.

My hand was on my back holster. As the truck slowed down, I pulled it out and cocked the magnum. I gripped it tightly, squeezing until it hurt. Having it in my hands, I felt like I could do this, like I could actually survive and get out alive.

There wasn’t enough space to raise the pistol completely, so I kept it lowered, ready to bolt up once they unlocked the roof. I let go with my strong grip, the feeling returning to my hands, since my arms were already shaking madly from fear.

The truck stopped.

Their doors slammed shut. The rumble got me squeezing the handle, my finger clear from the trigger. I heard their muddled voices getting closer. I carefully pushed my forefinger to the trigger.

I heard the turning of the lock. I shoved my hand up and the revolver hit the top of the trunk. It opened. I lined it up with the first target I saw, one of my abductors.

There wasn’t time for him to understand what was happening. His pupils probably dilated, but I wasn’t focused on that. I was focused on my finger on the trigger and the sights lining up with his chest. Keeping my arm straight, my aim true, I hit the trigger and the gun blasted.

His chest ripped open. I fired, again and again. In all I must’ve fired three shots into him. He tumbled back and out of sight. My head rang from the echoes of the blast. It disoriented me enough where the man next to him, the man from the diner, sprung at me.

I tilted the barrel at him, but he caught my wrist before I could fire. I still fired another shot, but it went wild, into the air behind him. He reached into the trunk and I saw him rear back while I still tried to fire into him, to stop him like I had his friend, but it was too late.

His arm rocketed forward. His fist slammed into my bottom lip. Pain cracked through my body followed by a throbbing immobilization which sent me crashing onto my back.

My fingers were ripped from the gun. I expected the gun to be turned on me. I expected the next blast that pierced my eardrums would be followed by agony. Or maybe it would silence me forever. No more pain.

“What did you do...” I heard above me.

“You bitch,” he shouted again. He snatched my hair and pulled me from the trunk. I landed on my side. I was suddenly mobile again, but unable to do anything of my own will as I wriggled around on the ground and howled.

“Come on,” he said. I heard his shoes scrunching the mud next to me. Rain pattered near my ear. Soft, comforting rain, which helped me straighten my spine and sputter onto my knees.

He snatched my throat. I looked into those black, lifeless eyes.

“If you fight, you will be hurt. Got it? You don’t have to come out of this alive.”

I wanted to spit at him, but at the moment, there was too much pain for me to put up much of a fight. It was imperative that I try to memorize where I was, in case I could escape.

We were at a fenced-in warehouse that looked like a mechanic’s with junked-up cars piled on the sides. It looked like it hadn’t seen business in a couple decades. He dragged me inside through the bay doors and then shut them.

Bright lights flickered on, those types that were all UV to keep people awake in super stores. The Defiler pressed away from the switch as I lay gasping and writhing on the dusty cement floor.

Sweltering inside the garage, I pushed onto my elbows and checked my surroundings. The repair bay had been mostly cleared out, but there were still rusty, red tool chests against the wall. There was only one exit besides the garage doors, and it didn’t look like much else was in there from my perspective on the ground. All I could see was a boarded-up window.

“Who are you?” I spat out.

Like I cared. My hope was that he would give me a name.

He didn’t reply. He didn’t even look at me. Throwing open one of the red tool cabinets, he picked up a hammer and weighed it in the palm of his hand. He tossed it playfully.

Recoiling, my stomach lurching, I thought I would be sick. Maybe death would be the easy way out. There was no telling how sick these fuckers could be. Pushing back, I inched my way closer to the corner of the wall, but then I spotted the discolored spots on the ground. They were big, dark splotches.

Blood.

The head Defiler stalked me with the hammer. He kept it at his side, but he made sure that I could see it. He seemed to only have one emotion. Hatred.

“You’re going to tell me everything you know. You’ve got the cojones to splatter my boy’s brains. You understand what’s going to happen if you don’t answer.”

He took me by the collar, pulling me onto my knees. Where was Red?

Red wouldn’t be saving me. Neither would the FBI.

No one knew where I was. It was only this Defiler and me, and he could do whatever he damned well pleased with me, and I didn’t doubt from his demeanor that he was willing to do it. Pressing back on my heels, my ribs ached in response. I was already in a bad way, but I wouldn’t let him see that, except for the occasional twisting of my lips.

“Give me names. Names now. Start spitting them out.”

“What names? What names do you want?”

“Any names. Names of people you know. Girls you hang out with, shop with, whatever.”

He shook me, rattling my skull. My vision blurred for a moment. I thought about tossing him off, but still seeing the gleaming hammer in his fist, decided not to.

“Why would you want that?”

His fury subsided for a moment, only to be replaced by a smug smile. It was a demeaning look. I hated him even more for it.

“We know where The Bastards are, but their compound is fortified. Why would we attack there? Where they’re waiting for us? Their women, their children, nothing will be safe. They will have nowhere to hide.”

He flung me back. I caught myself, but my knees brushed against the concrete and burned. Constant pushing and pulling was getting to be too much. My eyes dipped as I thought about how easy it would be to pass out.

“Tell me names,” he screamed. He lunged at me again and snatched my collar. He started to squeeze, started to put pressure, but he wasn’t at my throat, not yet.

“Tell me locations. Where do they live?” He let go of my collar and waited, but he angled the hammer so that it was ready to strike.

He wanted to know the names of girls? Of families?

“If you know where they are, why don’t you go for them? Why do you have to pick on defenseless families? Are you that scared of The Bastards? It sure looks like it.”

My arm flexed. I prepared to block a hammer strike.

He didn’t do it. But he did swing his hand. He slapped me across the cheek, whipping me around, the sting so harsh that I dropped to my hands and knees.

My eyes watered. I rubbed them and then pulled myself up again.

“Okay, we do it another way,” he said. He strolled away from me. My eyes darted around the room, looking to use something to my advantage. Opening a drawer, he tossed in the hammer, but then pulled out some chains and handcuffs.

This was the last chance I had, it seemed. As soon as he drew near, I backed off and tried to round him. Getting onto my feet, I charged him, trying to shove my shoulder into his ribs, but he caught me. He shoved me back down.

It deterred me for a second. But my attack hadn’t gone as planned, and we struggled. He yanked my hair back.

“Bitch,” he growled. With my hair yanked back, he clasped the cuffs over my wrists. He attached the chain and brought me over to a hook hanging from the ceiling.

No escape.

Nothing I could do would help me survive. Even if I told him names and locations, I didn’t think this was the type of man to honor a torture agreement.

He strung me up. I was at his mercy.

He barked again, “Name and location.” When I didn’t tell him, he went back to his tool chest. I feared what he would pull out next.

Polishing my ride should’ve eased my tension, but it did little to soothe me. As I stroked it down, all I could think about was Ash. Feeling her softness, tracing her curves, memorizing every inch of that beauty. I went to scrubbing it harshly, trying to dismiss the thought, but I only thought about her betrayal. Scrubbing with one hand was hard enough, anyway.

Once I was inside The Backyard, things were eerily quiet. Patrons at the bar sat on their stools, sipping their drinks, trying to distract themselves with idle chatter, but everyone looked solemn. Most of the families had been pulled into the compound for security purposes.

Many of the tables were packed with husbands and wives, not the usual mess of hanger-ons and drunk Bastards. Tonight, they would have to behave themselves.

If they only knew who Ash really was...

This was definitely not the time to breach the subject. Everyone was high-strung, even after the victory. They knew this wasn’t over. No one had heard word from The Defilers yet, but they knew that once they saw their massacred crew, the rest would attack.

I went to the far back of the building. A hallway turned right as soon as you were about to hit the true backyard area, where a lot of rowdiness tended to happen. Tucked in the right corner, there was an office. The Bastards’ Media Office.

Yes, we had a social media coordinator. Can you believe it? We did a lot of community outreach.

My brother Jackal was in charge of it. I thought he only used it to “like” all of the hot girls that showed up on the feed. He threw open the door before I could get to it. My brother looked pale and shaken. I knew immediately that something was wrong.

“R-Red,” he stuttered.

“What’s wrong?” I tried to remain alert, but the truth was, after learning that Ash had lied to me, that she had set me up, it was like someone had dissected my will from me. It was hard to keep moving.

How could I be so stupid? How could I let her do this to me? Voices in my head wouldn’t stop. All I wanted was some peace...

My brother hadn’t said anything. He looked dead ahead as if I wasn’t really there, as if I had somehow vanished in front of his eyes. I waved.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Whatever it was, he didn’t want to tell me. He took a hard gulp, his Adam’s apple rolling, he pointed his thumb to the back of the room.

“You’re going to flip your shit, bro. You’ve got to see this. I was just about to get you.”

The first thought that came to my mind was that Ash had been caught. Even if she did betray me, I couldn’t let anyone harm her. By God, if she didn’t listen to me and get out—

As soon as I got to the door, Jackal put his hand on my chest. I reared back.

“Hey,” he said, sizing up my emotions. “What you’re about to see is going to piss you off, but don’t worry, we’ve got it under control. Don’t get too pissed, not yet, save it for when we need it.”

Oh, don’t worry, brother, I already know about her. About how she lied. About how she wanted to ruin me. Don’t worry about that.

The social media coordinating room was more like Jackal’s man cave. It was a small corner office with a TV, a desk, and a computer. He had a PlayStation hooked up to the TV and I didn’t doubt that he spent most of his time on it, but hey, my brother was the best we had when it came to technology, so we used his expertise. Guy was pretty smart with it. Not like me.

He sat down on the office chair. He peered at me while I looked at the screen. It looked like some social media site. A page for The Blessed Bastards.

“What is it?”

“This is The Blessed Bastards’ page.”

I rolled my eyes. “I might be clueless, but I can read what it says.”

“You didn’t notice this?” he asked, and then he clicked on one of the posts.

The image that popped up on the screen unleashed the demon inside of me. Snarling, screeching, clawing, it wanted to tear whoever had done this limb from limb as it cackled and thirsted on his blood.

It was Ash, strung up by chains, in a dark warehouse. Her hair was disheveled. She was only in a bra, and there was an arm next to her. Her eyes were what killed me. They were so full of life yet still fearful, but trying to remain calm, trying to persevere, but she was badly beaten and...I hoped not broken, not yet.

Who the fuck had done this?

“Fuck,” I screamed. I tossed Jackal out of the way.

“There’s more,” he muttered. He reached for the mouse.

“Show me.”

He clicked again.

In the first picture, I hadn’t noticed an arm off to the side. In the second, she was turned around, her backside to the camera. There was a swollen mark on her back. Someone held a torch a few inches away from her bare skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I lost it. Rage took over. Darkness closed in on me. I picked up the keyboard and smashed it on the table, sending keys bolting from the board. It was thrown against the wall and hit it with a resounding smack, but not quite as loud as I needed it to be.

“Hey,” Jackal yelled at me. I was hulking out, my veins threatening to burst, my head swarming with dark thoughts. The animal had taken over and I didn’t know where to go, what to do, to save her. My best idea at the moment with all the anger was to smash through the walls and destroy whoever had taken her.

But I didn’t know who did. Or where they were.

“Calm down. We’re only going to get her back if you keep a level head.”

He swung me around, a potentially dangerous move. He shook me. It snapped me out of my rage. It was still at a boil, but with Jackal’s help, I wouldn’t be consumed with it.

“Who did it? Is there more?”

“No, that’s it.”

I pulled away from him, but he yanked me back by my collar, making sure not to touch the colors. Touching the colors could be a serious offense even to actual brothers. Maybe even more. Brothers typically didn’t put up with each other’s shit.

“Chill. For now. Chill. There might be a way we can track them. I haven’t done that part yet. I was just coming to tell you, remember?”

My muscles were flexing. My mind was seeking violence. The reptilian part of me was in full control again, and it knew nothing but to rip and shred and devour all those who would harm Ash. For fuck’s sake, she looked terrified.