Soothing His Madness (16 page)

Chapter Thirty

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Taylor groaned,
rolling onto her side. The mattress scratched her hip and she moved her hand
down her body, waking up to find herself naked, sore all over, and cold. She
reached out for the edge of the bed and pulled herself into a sitting position.
She let her chin fall to her chest. Only then did she open her eyes and gaze
down at her body.

She exhaled in
relief. Her panties and bra were still on. She wasn't completely naked.

Not that the little
bit of underclothes meant the man hadn't touched her or she was safe. She
couldn't remember Toma' bringing her back into the house or what happened
afterward. She had no idea how much time had passed, only that she hurt. Hurt
worse than she'd ever felt. Her head killed her, and her arms were dead weight
in her lap.

The dripping in the
house continued. She lifted her gaze and found a door open to a bathroom. Then
it hit her how uncomfortable she was and why she woke up. She had to pee.

On shaky legs, she
shuffled across the room. She became more aware of her surroundings with each
step. For right now, Toma' was gone. Her clothes were also gone, which meant Toma'
probably found her phone and it too was gone.

Oh, God, Slade.
I'm so sorry.
She caught a sob,
clenching her teeth around the sound. Even that small of movement initiated new
pain in her head.

She used the
toilet, not flushing, because she wanted more time alone to figure out what was
going on and how she could escape, without alerting Toma' to her waking up. The
source of the dripping came from a pipe shoved through the wall of the black
molded shower. She sat staring at the water drops hitting the same spot on the
grimy porcelain. One, two, three, and the droplets converged to roll three
inches into the drain.

At one time, the
bathroom's pink walls hinted at a woman using the room. She'd painted Slade's
bathroom pink and she might never get to hold on to her promise to repaint the
room. She swallowed the emotions clogging her throat.

She needed Slade.
He'd know what to do to get out of here.

She wanted his broad,
rough hand to stroke her back and to smell the mountain breeze on his greasy T-shirt
after he came home from work, making her feel safe and loved. She blinked extra-long
to sooth the burning in her eyes. She needed to hear his deep timbre whisper
when he called her his baby girl.

She wanted to call
and tell him she'd never give up, and that she'd keep fighting to escape. But,
her phone was gone. She'd never give up trying to get back to him. Ever.

There were things
she needed to do to make everything okay and ease her mind. Slade needed to
know she'd gone behind his back and paid off Ray. Her parents needed to know
she loved Slade with her whole heart and wanted to spend the rest of her life
with him and the boys. She'd promised the kids another game of basketball in
the driveway. She wanted to keep living life with Slade. Her home was with him,
back in Pitnam with Bantorus MC, with the boys.

The door in the
bedroom opened. She stood, pulled her panties to her hips, and hurried to close
the bathroom door, but there was no door to shut.

Toma' ogled her
from head to toe, and slowing worked his way back up her body to her breasts.
Defiantly, she walked past him and stood in front of the boarded window.
"I want my clothes."

Toma' sat down on
the bed. "You'll have to earn them back."

"I'm worth
money. I have family that will pay a lot to have me back." She folded her
arms, half to hide herself from his gaze and the other part to stop the
shivering. "Call them."

Toma' rubbed his
hands along his jean-covered thighs. "Bantorus MC ain't gonna give squat
for you. You're one of their bitches."

She hid her shock. In
her world, nobody called her by that name. Even before she became Slade's old
lady, she was never a bitch. If Slade heard him use that name toward her, he'd beat
the shit out of him.

"Trust me.
They will pay you," she said. "I belong to one of the riders."

Toma's hand came
out and before she could move, she was on the floor. Her cheek throbbed, and
blood from her face dripped to the floor. She stayed on hands and knees, watching
the blood. One. Two. Three, and the droplets rolled three inches into the crack
on the wooden floor.

Her blood pulsed
with the drips coming from her, coming from the bathroom, coming from her heart
that was tearing apart at the loss of ever seeing Slade again, the boys, and
her family. She pushed herself to her feet and without any warning; she raised
her arm and backhanded Toma'. Before he reacted, she brought her knee up to his
crotch. He shifted, and her aim missed.

Toma' grabbed her hair
and brought his head back, then threw himself at her head. Pain exploded in her
forehead, and she fell to her knees. Blood ran in her vision, in her nose, in
her mouth. She struggled through the pain, because she would not let this
bastard take her away from everything she loved. She wouldn't slip away from
Slade's life and become a memory.

Her man was out
there probably worried and burning a warpath, and she had two boys that needed
her more than they needed a normal family. She spit out the warm, tainted
liquid out of her mouth. Slade gave them all a life to be proud of, and she
would not go down wearing only panties and a bra, bleeding to death, in a God damn
abandoned house with the fucking water dripping and driving her crazy.

She dove for his
knees, taking him by surprise and knocking him to the floor. In a fury she
never thought possible she fought for her life and the life she wanted with
Slade.

***

The address Slade
received led him to an abandoned two-story farmhouse with half the siding falling
off. He parked his motorcycle at the end of the dirt road by a stand of
Cottonwood trees and slashed his hand across his throat for the others to cut
their engines. In the silence, he strained to hear anything that would give him
a hint that Los Li hadn't jacked him around and Taylor was hidden somewhere
else.

A wooden shed,
leaning to the west, braced against an old fir tree, fifty feet from the house
kept drawing his attention. It was big enough to hold a car or motorcycle. He
walked forward, staring at the dirt road sprinkled with overgrown grass. They
hadn't had rain in a few weeks, and the grass was leaning. Whether from lack of
water or traffic, he hadn't a fucking clue.

He turned back
around and joined Ronny, Jedman, and Rain. "I want to check out the shed
first, and then I'm going inside the house."

"We'll come
with you." Jedman removed his pistol and flipped off the safety.

"I don't want
him to know I'm coming. It's too dangerous with all of us moving on foot. We
don't know what kind of condition Taylor is in or the danger it'll put on
her." He pointed in the distance. "I want each of you to take a side
of the house. I'll go through the front door. If he steps outside, blow his fucking
head off."

"Your woman,
your call." Rain stepped forward.

Slade looked at
each of them. "This goes down, it's on my back. You promise to raise my
kids and see after Taylor."

"Blood,
brother." Rain clasped his wrist. "Let's roll."

Slade stayed low,
working his way over to the shed, using the tall grass for cover. He dashed the
last twenty feet and hunkered down at the back corner. Leaning to the left to
check out the backside of the shed, he spotted a broken out window. He settled
back on the heels of his boots in relief. Away from sight of the house, the
window would provide the easiest way to check inside the building.

He crept closer and
straightened. Peering inside, he clamped his teeth to keep from yelling his
outrage. A black car with an upside down Beemer hood ornament sat inside. The
bastard was here. He tapped down the urgency to storm the house and find
Taylor.

Adrenaline pulsed
through him, and left his hand shaking. He removed his gun out of his right
hand and stretched his fingers. The natural urge to curl his index finger, feel
the kickback of the gun, and watch the bullet pierce the rogue Los Li member
satisfied him. He was ready to get his woman back.

He gripped the
pistol, moved to the corner of the shed, nodded once, and motioned the others
to take their places. Then he studied the house. Every window remained empty,
no movement in sight.
Hold on, baby girl. Hold on for me.

He straightened and
ran a straight path to the porch. Going on pure instinct, he kept going until
he hit the wooden steps by the front door. The weatherworn wood creaked and he
plastered his body against the wall, knowing the rotted siding was no
protection if a bullet came toward him. With his back to the house, he put his
hand on the door and tested the handle. It was unlocked.

To calm himself, he
thought of Kurt—tougher and stronger than a thirteen-year-old boy should be,
and Lee—living in denial, hanging on to the positive and wanting desperately to
remain a carefree kid. He moistened his lips, and wanted the taste of Taylor
back on his mouth. He wanted to surround her with a family and wake up every
morning to the squeak of a broken bed as he buried himself deep in her body.

Taylor made his
life normal when they were all together, and he'd never fight the madness again
if he could get her back. He'd accept his crazy fucked up world for what it
was, full. More than anything, he needed a lifetime to prove nobody could love
Taylor more than he could.

Calm swept through
him. He turned the handle and stepped inside, pistol raised. His gaze swept the
room.

Empty.

He advanced through
the entryway into the living room, taking precise steps to avoid the debris
scattered around. He pointed his weapon at every corner, every piece of
furniture, and every shadow.
I'm here, baby girl.

He walked through
the archway into the kitchen. His heart pounded. Fear of a set up and finding
out he'd come to the wrong location to find Taylor rattled his thoughts. Too
much time had passed since she went missing. He couldn't afford not to find
her.

Out the back
window, Rain showed himself and shook his head. Slade continued moving, one
room at a time. He couldn't explain it, but he sensed Taylor was in the house.
She was here. He only had to find her.

A squeak came from
the room up ahead and to the left. He froze. Anxious, he crept forward to the
opened door, swung around to a crouched position in the doorframe, and looked
for Taylor.

The room was empty.
He clamped his teeth together and straightened.

As he moved, a gray
mouse scuttled across the floor. He ignored the rodent and headed toward the
stairs. On the third step, he stopped, hearing a soft brushing sound. He
couldn't tell if he imagined the noise or if the floor had creaked underneath
his boots. He took another step, straining to hear.

A louder scraping
sound came from above him. He took the steps three at a time and scanned the
upper landing. Three doors were open, one closed. He never second guessed
himself, but stormed to the closed on, kicking it in. The door busted and fell
to the side.

He took in Taylor
first, lying crumbled on the floor in her underwear and unresponsive to the
noise. Blood coated most of her bare skin. Feral anger and his heart exploding
had him looking for the one responsible for her condition. A man sat on a
wooden chair, legs outstretched, jeans to his knees, hand on dick, staring at
him as if he wasn't sure what he was seeing.

Slade wanted to
make sure he wiped the sight of his woman from the man's mind and without any
hesitation, pulled the trigger at the sick bastard's brain. Slade held the
pistol in the same position, lowered his arm and put a second shot in the man's
dead heart.

His deadly shots
echoed in the room. Slade's knees hit the floor beside Taylor at the same time
the Bantorus riders entered the room. Slade took off his shirt, covering up
Taylor's upper body and laid down beside her, wrapping his arm around her
waist.

"Ambulance is
coming." Rain placed his hand on Slade's shoulder.

Jedman pried the
pistol from Slade's hand. "Got your back, brother."

He put his lips on
Taylor's hair. "Hold on, baby girl. Helps coming, and they'll make you
better. I'm here now, and I'll make them fix you."

Taylor's cold body
remained lifeless, and he held her closer. "The boys are waiting for you
to come home to them—he clamped his teeth together to keep from yelling at the
onslaught of fear coursing through his veins—don't you dare leave me, baby
girl. Don't you fucking leave me."

Rain squatted on
the other side of Taylor and put his fingers to her neck. Slade grabbed his
wrist, stopping him. "Don't touch her."

The intensity of
Rain's gaze confirmed Slade's worries. His woman had gone through hell. He
would not allow anyone to touch her, because he couldn't face the truth of her
condition. She was a broken doll, discarded and abused, and he wanted to make
her whole.