Meeting Danger (Danger #1) (9 page)

As the van took off, his face felt like it was on fire. But it was nothing compared to the pain coming from his ribs. At least one or two were broken, for sure.

As if sensing where he was most vulnerable, Beck smirked and kicked at Camden’s chest. He gasped at the blinding pain, and his vision dimmed before everything went black.

• • •

Newburgh, New York

“The prospect I met?”

Autumn was standing at the sink, daydreaming as she finished washing the dinner dishes. She startled when Butch pounded the kitchen table with his fist and let out a string of angry curses at what he was hearing on the phone.

“I can’t believe he’s a fucking cop!” There was silence for a few seconds before Butch snorted. “Yeah, you do that. My property’s nice and private. I’ll be waiting.”

The call ended with Butch muttering, “Fucking pig.” His chair scraped the floor before he stalked down the hallway.

When the bedroom door slammed shut behind him, Autumn eased out a breath.

A Disciples prospect was an undercover cop? The only prospect she knew of was the young brown-haired man from the Scranton chapter who’d been on the run with them. Was he the one Butch was talking about? She shivered at the thought of what they’d do to him.

If Beck was the person Butch had spoken to, then the brothers would be here in little more than an hour. Butch was going to kill this cop; Autumn had no doubt. There was no way he’d risk his drug operation being uncovered, and Beck was probably bringing him here so they could kill him and do away with his body without anyone being the wiser.

But what could she do to stop it? Her shivers gave way to full-blown trembling.

An hour later, her stomach clenched when a white van pulled into the driveway. By then, Butch was waiting outside with his second-in-command, Viking, and Deck, one of the brothers.

Butch stormed to the back door of the van, and he and Deck dragged a man out. Even from where she stood inside, peering out the window into the darkness, Autumn could make out the taunts.

Asshole.

You fucking pig.

The cop’s hands were bound behind his back and he was slumped over, his face darkened in places with what must be blood. Autumn’s heart nearly stopped when Deck took hold of him, and Butch and Viking began punching him. When the cop collapsed a minute later, Viking and Deck hooked their arms under his and dragged his limp body toward the barn.

Turning away from the window, Autumn pressed a fist to her mouth so she wouldn’t cry out. To Butch, right and wrong didn’t matter much, but loyalty did. If she didn’t help this cop, he’d die. Tonight.

Her gaze flew to the phone on the other side of the room, but fear paralyzed her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she drew in a shallow breath.
You need to do the right thing. For once in your life, be brave. If not for yourself, for that poor man.
She opened her eyes and glanced at the phone again.

She’d done nothing about Paxton, the rival drug dealer, even though she suspected Butch had killed him. Knowing that had made her die a little inside at the thought that she was possibly living with a killer. This time she couldn’t just sit idly by.

I don’t want this cop to die.

She glanced at the clock and relief rushed through her. Church was supposed to begin in half an hour. Butch and the brothers never missed church, so she could help the cop after they left.

If they don’t kill him before
.

Autumn began pacing the kitchen. On every turn, she looked out the window. Endless minutes dragged by with the brothers still inside the barn.

Please come out. Please.

The door finally opened. Butch stepped out with the brothers following.

Thank God.

Autumn quickly counted the men. Beck, Grizzly, and Blade were getting back into their van. They were the only ones who’d arrived from Scranton. Viking and Deck were next to Butch. Relief surged through her at the realization that no one was inside the stable except for the cop—the brothers hadn’t left anyone to guard him.

As the van took off, Butch, Viking, and Deck headed toward their bikes. But Butch didn’t stop at his. Instead, he continued toward the house.

Scrambling away from the window, Autumn dashed into the living room. With trembling hands, she began folding laundry from the basket sitting on the floor.

Butch’s eyes narrowed as he came into the room. “Make sure you stay inside tonight.”

She gave him a tight nod.

His jaw clenched while he continued to watch her. “I mean it.”

“Okay.”

Please don’t let him hear my knees knocking together.

Agonizing seconds passed before he finally turned and left the room. The back door slammed shut a few seconds later.

Autumn grabbed the back of the sofa and released the breath she’d been holding. Once the motorcycles roared away, she yanked her jacket from the peg by the door and rushed into the kitchen. Opening the utility drawer, she shoved the contents aside. One of the brothers had given Butch a Swiss Army knife last Christmas. Since he already had one, Butch had stuck the knife inside this drawer.

Come on. Come on.

Reaching deeper into the drawer, she pushed items aside until the red-enameled handle finally became visible. She yanked the knife out, shoved it into her jacket pocket, and slammed the drawer shut.

Just before she reached the back door, she stopped short, thinking. Doubling back, she snatched Butch’s truck keys from the kitchen counter.

Nerves twisted her insides as she burst outside and ran toward the barn. Had Butch killed the cop?

She shook the thought away. No. The cop had to be alive. But how badly was he hurt? He’d been beaten even before he’d been brought here, so how bad off was he now? Would he be mobile enough to make an escape?

• • •

Camden twisted his hands, feeling for his watch. Like his phone, it had a button he could press in case of an emergency, and had a GPS transmitter that would help his team pinpoint his location. But the watch was no longer on his wrist, and the phone was gone too. The brothers must have taken them off while he’d been unconscious.

From the chair he was tied to, Camden turned his head and looked around the barn where he was being held. If he didn’t find a way out of here, he was going to die. But there was nothing he could see that could help him, nothing sharp he could use to cut himself free. There were two motorcycles on the other side of the barn in the middle of repairs, based on the parts on the nearby workbench, but no tools in sight—only a few large tool chests that were probably locked.

Camden leaned his head back and closed his eyes, willing his breathing to slow down so he wouldn’t choke on the dirty rag that had been used to gag him. The pain from the beating he’d taken was incredible; everything hurt, especially his midsection.

In and out; breathe in and out. Ignore the pain. Think!

His parents were safe; the club didn’t have any idea what his real name was. And everything in his wallet and phone were in the name of Cameron Shea to match his undercover role. Even his team’s contact in his phone was listed as “Gail,” the name of the nonexistent girlfriend he used as an excuse to fend off the groupies. But the thought of the pain his parents were in store for sent panic shooting through his system.

He moved his hands against the zip tie on his wrists. There had to be an escape, some way out of here. He just needed to find it.

Calculating the time, he looked toward the door. He’d have at least an hour before the brothers returned. Even the dirty business of murder took second fiddle to church.

When the barn door creaked open, every muscle in Camden’s body tensed. He bit down on the gag inside his mouth. Had the club left a brother here to guard him? The pain in his ribs and gut hadn’t abated; the edges of his vision were still blurry. There was no way he could take another beating.

“I’m going to help you.”

Camden jerked his head to where the whispered words had come from. One of his eyes was so swollen he could barely see through it. But as he turned his head, a woman became visible. With the yard light coming in through the doorway, illuminating her from behind, she looked like an angel.

Was he imagining things or was there actually a woman here? He blinked hard, making sure she was real. When his vision cleared, he realized she was the beautiful blonde from the run.

She stepped forward and gently removed the gag from his mouth. “I’m going to help you,” she repeated.

Groaning, Camden had to force his words out. “I’m an undercover agent.” The voice that came out was rough, strained, and sounded nothing like his own.

“I know.” As the woman moved behind him, the zip tie around his wrists began to pull. Camden stifled a groan as his already raw flesh pinched.

“There!”

When the tie holding his wrists snapped, Camden pulled his hands in front of him, trying hard to rub some life back into them. The woman met his gaze for a second before bending to work on his zip-tied ankles with a pocketknife.

Once he was free, she stood and folded her knife before slipping it into her jacket pocket. “Let’s go!”

Sweat beaded Camden’s forehead as he hoisted himself up from the chair and took a tentative step forward. Just as he expected, moving was agony. He grimaced at the sharp pain but kept going.

The young woman moved in beside him. “Here, you can lean on me.”

As she wrapped an arm around him, Camden gazed down at the top of her head. She was about a foot shorter than him and looked like she didn’t even weigh a hundred pounds. There was no way he could rest more than a little of his weight against her. But left with no choice, he gripped her shoulder.

As he took his next step, a fresh wave of pain crested. He groaned and wrapped his free arm around his midsection as he hobbled across the floor. They exited the barn and moved across the dirt patch he’d been dragged over.

Squinting, Camden surveyed the scene. A fairly new pickup truck was parked a few feet away. “That truck—”

“You’ll have to drive it.”

Camden grunted a word of assent, even though he was in no condition to drive. He continued to lean on the woman as they made their way toward the vehicle.

“We need to hurry.”

“Yeah.” Camden sucked in a deep breath, even though it hurt like hell to do so. It hurt to even talk.

“I’m going to show you the way to the police station.”

“You’re coming with me?”

“Yes.”

“Can you drive then?”

“I don’t know how.”

Camden frowned at that but didn’t say anything more. He needed all of his concentration to propel his body forward.

They finally reached the truck. After the woman opened the driver’s door, Camden grabbed hold of the steering wheel and hoisted himself inside, wincing at the pain. The woman shut the door and then scrambled around the front of the truck. She was taking in sharp breaths, her anxiety palpable as she climbed into the passenger seat.

How long was it before Butch and the brothers returned? Camden had lost all sense of time.

She handed him the keys and he started up the truck. He still wasn’t convinced he’d be able to drive, but what choice did he have?

Shifting gears sent another jolt of pain through his insides. He clutched at his midsection as he eased the truck down the long gravel driveway.

“Make a right onto the road.”

The truck swerved wide as he made the turn a little too fast. He needed both hands on the wheel, but damn it, he needed one to hold his ribs too. As they fishtailed, the woman darted a nervous glance in his direction.

They’d driven less than a mile before Camden’s vision tunneled. Spots bounced in front of his eyes.

“How much farther?” he ground out.

“Several miles.”

His vision dimmed, and the truck swerved toward the shoulder.

Pull over
. The thought traveled down from his brain.

“Can’t drive anymore. Need to stop.”

Somehow, he managed to pull the truck to the side of the road. Gripping the steering wheel as he shifted into P
ARK
, he forced air inside his lungs. Doing so felt like he was being stabbed. Bolts of pain traveled through him with every breath he took.

The woman let out a sob before flinging open her door. She hurried around the truck and gestured frantically to an old Victorian house a hundred yards away. “There! Let’s get you there!”

Had she not grabbed hold of his arm, Camden would have fallen out of the truck. Blackness framed his vision as he set one foot and then the other onto the pavement. Bracing a hand against the driver’s door, he slowly straightened his frame.

“Your ribs are broken.”

It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t bother to answer.

“We need to hurry!” she cried out, her voice revealing full-blown panic.

As Camden took a step, the young woman gripped his waist, nearly staggering forward in her attempts to offer him support. But in desperate need, he made no protest.

Agonizing step after step followed until they’d finally made it up the walkway to the house. Lights blazed from above the home’s door. The woman reached out to stab at the doorbell, and Camden gripped the door frame in order to ease his weight off of her.

A man opened the door and blinked hard as he took in Camden’s appearance—hunched over, disheveled, battered and bloody.

Sweat dripped from Camden’s forehead. “Undercover officer . . . I need a phone.”

The man hesitated for only a second before he nodded, then turned to rush back into the house without a word.

Beside him, the woman shifted nervously and took a step back. “You’ll be safe now.”

Camden turned his head to gaze at her. Every instinct screamed that she needed his help. She seemed terrified, and with good reason. If Butch and the brothers discovered she’d helped Camden escape, she’d probably be killed.

His hand shot out and he grabbed her wrist. “Don’t leave.”

“Let go of me!”

Camden pushed aside the panic in her voice. It was something to be dealt with later. He grunted as another shooting pain stabbed his insides.