Treats Aren't Always Sweet (3 page)

“And she’s gonna get it. After we take care
of this piece of shit,” Stone added as his fist made contact with
Lane’s nose. The telltale cracking sound racketed through the air
as his nose jammed to the left. He let out a slew of cuss words and
screamed like the little bitch he was.

“I am not Lane, shit, man, you broke my
nose,” the man whimpered.

“Treat?” War snapped.

“Never seen him,” Treat admitted and looked
down at her sister who was trying to open her eyes. “Jilly, this
the man who beat you?”

Her sister turned her head and tried to
focus, it took a few minutes before she mumbled. “Not Lane.”

“Shit,” Treat said and looked up. “We gotta
find out where he is.”

“You gonna tell us everything you fuckin’
know you piece of shit!” Stone cocked back and landed another punch
in the same spot, no doubt causing permanent damage. Good. The
son-of-a-bitch deserved a hell of a lot more than that, he hadn’t
even been helping her when they showed up, making him just as
guilty as Lane. She was close to voicing that opinion when War
stepped up. He plastered the barrel of the gun in the man’s temple
and gritted his teeth.

“One wrong move, motherfucker. Just one.” He
reared back and kicked him in the dick, grinning as the man went
down holding his crotch. As soon as he was on his knees, Stone’s
foot kicked him full force in the face, knocking him backwards, and
out.

“Get him out of here. Treat, as soon as we’re
gone, call the ambulance. Tell them she called you, you came, she
was alone when you got here. Got it?” War grabbed the lifeless body
and dragged him to the door, smiling when the sound of a truck
skidded to a stop in front of the small rickety stairs that dropped
from the front door. “Moon, you take the baby back to the
clubhouse.”

“I need to pack up formula and shit, give me
a few minutes,” she said, holding the baby close to her chest.

“No. Send the Prospects out for whatever you
need. Get her out of here now,” he growled.

“On it,” she said, not questioning him. Moon
grabbed the infant carrier from beside the television and buckled
the baby in, relieved that a pacifier was sitting on the table
beside them. She gave it to the baby and the crying stopped. “There
we go, big man. Let’s get you out of here,” she cooed.

“Time to go, gentlemen,” he said as Stone and
Freebyrd loaded the unconscious body into the back seat. The other
guys hopped on their bikes as Stone tossed his keys to Casey.

“Drive it home for me. Nike, you’re on Bic’s
bike.” They’d intentionally told Nike to ride bitch with Bob, and
now it made sense. Where the girls had more intent on killing the
bastard and leaving his body to rot, the guys had put together a
plan to keep their asses all out of hot water when the authorities
showed up. Fuck! That was one more thing Treat would have to remedy
if she wanted to prove to these guys she had what it took to lead
the Lady Riders here. She couldn’t help but feel her temper shoot
through the fuckin’ roof. She knew this—yet when it became personal
for her, she’d thrown protocol out the damn window. As much as it
ate her ass, right now her attention needed to be on her
sister.

Treat kept her sister talking, mumbling words
of encouragement to keep her conscious until she could make the
rescue call and get her to a hospital. When they finally rolled her
away on a stretcher and got her loaded, the cops swarmed over to
get statements.

“Was the guy still here when you arrived?”
The officer questioning was young, probably straight out of the
academy, and she could tell his nerves were getting the best of
him. Casey in point number eight thousand twenty-four as to how
fugitives can slip through the system. This is reason el numero uno
why the Lady Riders joined forces. This time, there was no way in
hell another piece of shit would be let loose on the streets to
terrorize and continue the vile nauseating behavior toward helpless
women. Women like her sister.

“Nope. She was on the floor when I found her
barely alive. I’ve been trying to get the details out of her and a
description but she’s too out of it,” she lied.

“Okay. Thank you. We’ll be in contact if we
find anything out. Here’s my card, if you think of anything that
will be helpful with our investigation please don’t hesitate to
call.”

“Thank you, officer,” Treat cooed in her best
‘Happy Birthday Mr. President’ voice. He seemed delighted she’d
referred to him as officer if his puffed out chest and cocky
expression were anything to go off.

“Just doing’ my duty, ma’am.” It was the
first time it physically hurt to grin, but she did it knowing that
son-of-a-bitch wouldn’t be bothering them again. As soon as he
left, she ran to the ambulance and hopped in the back, ignoring the
EMTs telling her not too. “She’s my fucking sister,” she growled,
daring them to protest again. Both men threw up their hands in a
defensive posture.

“Just stay out of the way,” one grumbled,
pointing over to a corner seat. She moved and sat out of the way,
but made sure to watch every damn move they made and asked
questions about every medication they were pumping in her veins.
With an IV already in her arm and fluids draining in to dilute the
morphine, Jilly faded off to sleep.

Casey, Bob, and Nike rounded up the other
Lady Riders and got them following. They needed to be there for
their sister, especially if something went wrong. Her sister looked
bad and if something happened, holding her back would be next to
impossible.

When they reached the hospital, Treat was in
the waiting room filling out forms and yelling at the desk nurse.
Bob walked right up to her, wrapped an arm around her stomach, and
yanked her away from the desk quickly. Someone needed to take her
in hand, she was out of control, of course they all understood, but
that didn’t mean they wanted the police to show up here and take
her to jail.

“Treat,” Bob whispered into her ear quietly.
“We all know this is difficult, but pull your shit together, woman.
We need to get information, and make sure everything she needs she
has. Take a deep breath, and fill out the forms. Do you need me to
call Shady?”

Treat felt the tears in her eyes; she was
having a hard time controlling it.
She had to
, she thought
and took a deep breath and then nodded slightly to Bob.

Nike stepped in front of her and said,
“Together.”

Treat closed her eyes. These were her sisters
too dammit. Her family history sucked, like big time. When she was
born, apparently someone missed the message to bestow her with any
luck. Because her mom was a drunk who didn’t give two shits about
anything but staying on her father’s good side, when he was sober
and not at the casino. This was impossible, since he was drunk and
there most of the time. Treat knew it because she had often tried
as well to be the dutiful daughter. She was the oldest, and
truthfully, she had no idea why the hell her parents had anymore.
They didn’t want her, so when Jilly was born, Treat was five, and
became the caregiver, protector, and stopped being a child.

They lived in the same dirty ratty trailer
growing up as they did now. When she was twelve, her father told
her she would be pregnant and married by fifteen, she wasn’t, which
was apparently a disappointment. Treat tried to protect her sister,
she sent her money to a PO Box every chance she got. She tried to
convince her to leave with her when she was eighteen but her sister
hadn’t wanted to leave their mom, who for some reason when Jilly
was ten decided she was a mom and tried to make an effort to take
care of Jilly. It had been pathetic and sad to watch, but Jilly had
sucked up the attention, and was convinced her mother was worthy of
her effort.

Treat had felt guilty about leaving her, but
she had to get out. For a few years she wandered, moving from place
to place as she tried to look for something, anything to show her a
better life. She lost touch with her sister, basically because she
stopped replying to her letters. Of course Treat should have known
something was up, but she hadn’t tried to find out, she was too
busy trying to keep her head above water and not become a hooker to
pay her bills. She had worked hard, but as per her life, she didn’t
find that life. Instead she found out she was attracted to losers
like her father. She had a string of them, and each one worse than
the last. The sad part was she fell for their bullshit every time.
They promised the moon and the stars and gave her cuts and bruises.
She lucked out by stumbling in to Trick
, she thought.
Finally, someone who understood her, someone she felt a connection
with that wasn’t sexual. But even that turned out to be all a
lie.

Treat discovered a year ago that everything
she had invested in over the last five years was a lie. She had
been devastated when her best friend, her sister, had betrayed her.
She trusted the other Lady Riders, but if she were honest with
herself, she held something back, something important, and that was
who she really was. They all saw Treat, the bubbly once blond now
dark redhead who was one half of a whole. Trick and Treat, the two
besties who were practically inseparable. Yeah, so not true if
Treat actually thought about it, which she didn’t right now because
she couldn’t go through that as well at this second, especially
when she heard someone say her name, her real name. Fuck,
apparently she didn’t have a guardian angel who watched over her,
protected her from evil, she already knew this, but she had been
hoping for something.

“Brooke Louise Duffy, what the fuck are you
doing here?” a man roared, yes roared in a loud unmistakable angry
and often frightening to small children voice. Bob froze, the Lady
Riders froze, because they had been focused on her, and if Treat
had been focused she would have seen all the women, including
herself, turn as a unit to see the huge, long haired, pot-bellied,
red nosed—because of drinking—dirty man and a small woman with a
bruise on her chin, looking anywhere but at Treat.

“Long time no see, Daddy,” Treat said
sarcastically.

Freebyrd rolled the guy out onto the ground,
giving him a few good kicks before he stepped away. “You ever show
your fucking ugly face around Jilly again and I’ll be digging your
grave out here you son-of-a-bitch!” War was right behind him and
stepped around to deliver his own punishment. With the tip of his
blade he sliced down man’s face, just deep enough to hurt like a
mother but not so much that he’d need stitches or bleed out and
die.

“I won’t, but I am telling you Lane will not
give up,” he growled with blood splattering from his lips. The guys
just laughed.

“Right, well he will get as much as you are,
give him our message,” War taunted. “Come on. Let’s leave this
piece of shit to rot.” He jumped back in the truck with the others
and sped off, slinging dirt and rocks on the man’s battered body.
They were halfway home when Freebyrd broke the silence.

“Think he will deliver the message?”

“Yep, but Lane is going to come anyway,” War
answered matter of factly.

“Good. I want to be the one who exterminates
that motherfucker.”

“You got it,” War said, laughing. He wanted
to do the honors, but there was no way in hell he was gonna argue.
As long as the fuck died, that’s all that mattered. “We need to up
security until he shows his face. I figure it will take him a few
days to come up with a plan before we will catch wind of him
lurking around.”

“Yeah. I want three men at the hospital at
all times. The girls may not want to ask for help, but they don’t
have a fucking choice. Up security at the clubhouse, and keep a guy
on each of the girls until this shit’s over.” Freebyrd punched the
accelerator, showing his aggravation in his driving. They were used
to riding balls to the wall, but this was reckless even for
him.

“Got it. You wanna slow down so we live long
enough to kill the stupid fuck?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Freebyrd growled, but he
did slow down some. They both were in the same state of mind and
wanted to turn around and finish him now. It was almost too
tempting.

“We could—” War started, but Freebyrd cut him
off.

“No. Not yet,” he said.

“I’m just sayin’, it’d cut down on a lot of
time and effort if we just kill the son-of-a-bitch now. Just hunt
his ass down, and take him before Treat’s sister makes a
statement.”

“No. If he comes up missing now, the cops
will be all over our ass. He’ll get what’s coming to him in due
time,” Freebyrd growled. He wanted to slaughter the motherfucker as
bad as War did, but at least he had common sense to wait. War on
the other hand, held true to his name. Rationality went out the
window when something like this came about. He wanted war, and he
wanted justice now and not later. Freebyrd was right though. They
didn’t need the P.D. riding up their ass. Not with everything that
was going on. They still had to get funding for the last safe house
for the women who were saved from human trafficking and if the
police started sticking their nose in, they might not get it. Those
women needed them, and needed Treat to work her magic. Since they
were affiliated with the Ladies, one mistake on their end could
cost them all.