Trip's Retribution (Hell Raiders MC Book 3) (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Tanya fought her way through layers of silent darkness, feeling an urgent need to get back. To what, she wasn't quite sure, but she knew it meant the world to her.

An angry male voice interrupted her mission. "—fuck were you thinking, idiot. You could have killed her."

Another voice answered. "Yeah, but I didn't. We got her back before some hillbilly could swoop in to the rescue."

The voices faded, as if the owners moved away, but Tanya didn't think they had. They still felt close, somehow, just not as loud. Or maybe she turned the volume down. Either way, it was better than listening to them yell at one another. She didn't like shouting or arguments. Dishes. She'd much rather do dishes.

She lost track again and just sort of floated, not really aware, but not totally gone either. Little snatches of sound or sensation came to her once in a while, but she didn't try to make sense of them. It took too much effort and she would rather look at the swirling depths of black all around her.

Sometime later, bright flashes of light drove her back toward the quiet dark with painful intensity against her eyes. She struggled to pull away, but the lights only grew stronger and more insistent.

Why wouldn't everything leave her the hell alone? She just wanted to rest. Was that too much to ask? Exhaustion dragged at her, making her muscles ache. The memory of whatever work made her so tired refused to come, but it didn't matter. Maybe she'd mowed the whole yard with that old rotary push mower Trip kept in the shed. She tried it once and gave up after a few feet, calling it too much work. So if she had actually used it, she must have had a great reason she couldn't remember.

Finally, the lights left her alone, and she snuggled down to rest some more. Damn, she had to talk to Trip about the air conditioning. He had it set way too cold. She needed to get up and get another blanket for the bed, but her tired muscles refused to cooperate. She gave up on that idea and just thought warm thoughts.

The quiet darkness might have held onto her a bit longer, but her sense of time had it all screwed up, so she really had no idea.

Tanya flung her arm over her eyes in annoyance, trying to block out some of the sun. Who the hell left the curtains open like that?

The bed swayed hard under her, tossing her back into full awareness. Not home in her own bed after all. She took stock of her situation as her memory rushed back. Kidnapped, and now injured, unless she missed her guess, and lying on the seat of a vehicle taking her to hell. Just another day in the life.

First things first. She needed to know what kind of shape she was in. Whatever they hit her with when she tried to run had hurt like a motherfucker, and she'd be surprised if it left no lasting damage.

Everything felt like it stayed in the right place, so she tried to move a little. Her arms and hands worked okay, but when she lifted her foot a little, pain radiated all the way up her leg and into her back. Shit. Hopefully her muscles had just grown stiff from lying still for however long.

Maybe getting off her back would help a little. Careful, she shifted her weight to the left a little and tried to roll. Pain blasted up her spine and her muscles contracted in spasms that felt as if her bones broke. A groan pushed past her lips before she could stop it.

"Well, looks like Sleeping Beauty decided to come back to us." The man who drove the truck sounded cheerful as hell for some reason. He must think he'd escaped.

Tanya stayed still, just trying to get the pain to calm down a little. Besides, talking to him accomplished nothing. She didn't have time to waste on bullshit. Holy hell, she hadn't felt pain of that magnitude since Buffalo spent a week
training
her to be a Saxons slave. Back then, raped repeatedly and beaten, she'd been sure she was dying. Now she knew the kind of pain she could survive. The thought gave her little comfort.

"Giving me the silent treatment, huh, bitch? We'll see how silent you are when we stop. Freak already promised me first go at that mouth, and I aim to collect."

Dread tried to gain a hold on her mind, but the pain was stronger and decided she had no time for that bullshit either. He would just get off on anything she might say, assuming it came from fear. The resolve she lost sight of while unconscious came back. This time, they would find a woman who no longer just endured whatever they dished out. She would fight back, even if it cost her life.

She slitted her eyes open and checked out her surroundings, looking for something to use to her advantage. Just as she'd thought, she lay on the backseat in the same truck as before. The neat freak in her growled in disgust at all the trash and tools and who knew what strewn on the floorboard below her. And then she realized many of those things could be weapons. All she had to do was figure out how to pick one up and gather the strength to use it.

She let her right arm drop off the side of the seat, as if by accident. Keeping her search for a weapon quiet took serious concentration. Slow and deliberate, she eased a screwdriver from where it lay half-buried by other tools.

***

Trip tried to follow Fabio's advice and cool his jets while the Raiders did their thing. Sick helplessness made him ache for action. After maybe an hour of fidgeting and making everyone uncomfortable, he took himself out to the shed at the back of the clubhouse. Kellen kept a heavy bag suspended there for just such occasions, and some of the others had added other equipment over the years.

A hook by the door waited for his cut and he made use of it. The ever-present leather gloves from his pocket slid onto his hands easily. Using his fists, he took his fear and frustration out on the bag, at least for the time being. Later he would direct all that fury where it belonged, but for the moment, he needed the edge off so he could focus.

He just kept thinking of what might happen to Tanya at Freak's hands and that made it difficult not to rush off and try to do something about it on his own. He hadn't witnessed Freak doing anything brutal during his stay at the Saxons compound two years ago, but that meant nothing. The man probably didn't earn that name by being a disco fan.

So he worked the bag until sweat rolled off him and his arms and shoulders burned with fatigue. Time to dial it back. Inside again, he showered, hoping to send the rest of his nerves down the drain and disappointed when the plan failed. Still, he felt a little better when he dressed in fresh clothes and headed back out to the club room.

Once more, he waited and fumed while other men rushed off to carry out Kellen's orders. Despite wanting to be involved in every aspect of the search, he found himself unable to focus and track everything that happened. He had to trust to his brothers to have his back and help him find his woman and get her back.

Crank came down the hall from the war room where banks of computers and other electronics sat ready to do his bidding. Trip was no slouch with that kind of thing, but Crank was in a class all his own. In another life, he might have been some big government security agent or a spy, or something glamorous like that. In this life, he used his talents to help the Hell Raiders gain an advantage in whichever business they found themselves.

Crank paused at the conference room door and lifted a hand to signal Trip to join him.

Trip nearly fell over his feet getting there. Kellen gestured him to a chair, but he refused. He'd rather stand, good news or bad. "What'd you find, Crank?" He sounded breathless, even to himself, like an excited kid on Christmas morning.

Crank grinned and slapped his shoulder. "I got 'em, man."

"What? Where?"

"They're on I-75 southbound, extended cab pickup with a bike escort."

"You're sure it's them?" Kellen should know better than to ask that, since Crank never brought info he hadn't thoroughly vetted. The fact that he asked anyway showed how seriously he took the situation.

Crank lifted a shoulder, unoffended. "Of course I'm sure. Got lucky and spotted the truck coming and going from Stags Leap on the damn bank's video surveillance. Have I said lately how much I love that fucking ATM? Tanya jumped out and tried to get away at the Rattlesnake but they grabbed her before anyone saw. From there I've tracked them to where they are now."

Trip breathed a prayer of thanks for Crank's hacking skills. If a computer or database had a network link, he could get in. "Okay. How do we catch up and take her back?" The day was nearly gone at this point and if they were going to get her before she disappeared into hell again, it had to be soon.

Crank grinned. "Gotcha covered, man. Fifteen minutes ago, they pulled into a motel and booked a room. They're staying put for the night, looks like."

"How far away?" Fuck. As long Freak stayed on the move, they had no time to hurt Tanya. Stopped, who knew. But he was willing to gamble shit would get bad in that motel room.

"We can be there in just over three hours."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" He stood, ready to get on the road. "Let's move."

Kellen stood. "Everybody's strapped and ready to roll. I'll pass the word. We roll in fifteen."

Finally! The sick helpless feeling drained from Trip's muscles, replaced by righteous anger and a need for vengeance. He would take every moment of Tanya's pain and fear out of Freak's hide. Retribution.

Chapter Eighteen

The truck stopped and Tanya didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified. Relieved to get out of the truck and have a chance to assess her injuries, or terrified what Freak and the driver might do to her. She finally settled on a whole lot of both.

They sat and waited for what seemed like forever and she tried to mentally prepare herself for what she knew was to come. The driver stayed quiet, thankfully, fiddling with the radio and not finding anything he liked, judging from the way he kept moving to the next station.

She welcomed the noise as it gave her a chance to search for another weapon to join the screwdriver. The man found a radio station playing something Tanya assumed must be pop. It definitely wasn't the country or hard rock she was accustomed to. Seemed like an odd music choice for a guy who tried to look big and bad.

The high pitched voice on radio drowned out the faint sound of metal on metal as she pulled a heavy wrench of some kind from the tangle on the floor. Her heart pounded with fear as she gripped the cold steel and moved carefully to get it to her pocket. At least with the screwdriver, driving occupied the man's eyes and she didn't have to worry about Freak coming along. She made it though, and shoved the wrench into her waistband, hoping to conceal it better than her pocket could.

The truck door behind her opened with a heavy
screech
and cool damp air swept up her back to raise a chill. Rough hands grabbed her and dragged her out of the seat. Stiff muscles cramped in protest at the sudden movement and she let herself slide to the ground rather than try to stand.

"Get up, bitch." Freak's voice stayed low with what sounded like suppressed anger. "We're going inside for a bit and you and I are going to talk."

When Tanya didn't move quickly enough, he jerked her upright. Sharp pain lanced through her back again and darkness tinted the edges of her vision. "I-I can't."

"
Fuck!
Packer, you fucking idiot. Get over here and help her in. Without drawing attention, or I'll kill you instead of her." Freak stomped off in disgust, leaving her sitting on the ground by the truck.

The driver, apparently called Packer, climbed out and came around to her. "Quit faking now, bitch. You ain't foolin' me." He grabbed her arm and jerked hard.

Tanya cried out as burning pain shot through her shoulder to join the agony already in her back. She tried to get to her feet, but while her legs moved, they refused to do as she wished. When she managed to get partially upright, they wouldn't support her weight.

"Well, fuck me." Out of patience, Packer wrapped one arm around her waist and half-dragged, half-carried her to a door that yawned dark like a monster mouth about to eat her whole.

Tanya had no doubt the monster would be better than Freak and this man. She squirmed and wriggled, trying to push her way out of his grip, but the way he held her, she had no leverage and her arms were useless in that position. She cried out, but he clapped a hard hand over her mouth, smothering the sound before she could get attention from anyone.

The door slammed behind them and Packer dropped her to a bed. "Stupid bitch."

"About time you got her ass in here." Freak stood at the foot of the bed where she lay.

Trying to avoid notice, Tanya slowly collected herself and made sure her weapons were still in place. She had to keep those out of sight until she could use them. There'd be hell to pay if they caught her with them first.

"What are we supposed to do with her now?" Packer suddenly sounded as if he might not want a part in what came next, after all. "And why didn't you tell me she was another biker's old lady?"

"We're going to get all the information we want from her, and we're going to have a little fun with her. After that, who knows. And she ain't nobody's old lady. What gave you that idea?" Freak moved around to where she could see him more clearly, head tilted. "You tell Packer you're an old lady, bitch?"

"I told him the truth. Trip and me are getting married." Pride strengthened her a little. She managed to speak to the bastard without stuttering once. She worked months to get over that after Trip rescued her. He said that was probably something to do with PTSD and she should see a shrink, but she refused. All she needed was Trip and she'd be just fine.

Freak threw his head back and laughed, the sound chilling her blood. "Now you know better than that, bitch. Trip's VP of a pretty strong club. He ain't gonna tie himself to sloppy seconds. Sure, he's playing house with you right now, but for fuck's sake, who wouldn't. I have to admit, you seem to do a real nice job taking care of a man."

Packer joined in the laughter. "Yeah, that's true. That ol' boy's just playing knight in shining armor to a piece of trailerpark trash. He'll get tired of that. Good thing we did him a favor and took her off his hands. He owes us now."

Tanya gritted her teeth, burning to tell them, but they would only ridicule her more. She stayed quiet and tried to reassure herself of Trip's sincerity.

"I still get the first go at that mouth, right Freak?"

"Oh yeah, that's right. You sure do, Packer." Freak grinned down at her. "In fact, why don't you go ahead and get started. I'll step out and grab us some beer. I saw a carryout just a minute back down the road." He raised his hand and wiggled his fingers at her, like a parent telling a child goodbye, then turned and left. "Better lock the door, Packer. Don't want any interruptions. I'll let myself in when I get back."

Packer moved closer to the bed and grinned down at her. "I bet you're real good at deep throat. If not, you will be when I'm done with you." He unbuckled his belt.

The blood froze in Tanya's veins for and instant, then thawed immediately with the wave of hot fury that washed over her. Images of Trip making love to her, especially how he reacted to her mouth, flooded her mind. How dare this man try to take something from her that now belonged only to Trip? The physical and emotional impact to her paled against the crime against her man. She would defend him to the death and beyond.

"You ain't got nothing to say? No begging?" Packer continued to grin and started opening his pants.

"Why bother?" This man was not going to get her fear. That would just please him.

He frowned for an instant, then the grin returned. "Okay then, right to business. I like that." He shoved his pants down and took his half-hard dick in his hand. "Look what I got for you, you dirty little bitch." He moved closer, aiming it for her mouth.

Shit! Fear flared and her stomach threatened to heave. Suddenly, she was in the slave room at the Saxons' compound, on her knees with Buffalo in front of her. He slapped her and forced himself into her mouth when she cried out. And then he shoved it so deep and so hard that she passed out. She spit blood for a week after that.

With an act of sheer determination, Tanya forced Buffalo out of her head. Never again would a man take her that way. She pushed the fear down and deliberately licked her lips.

Packer's gaze zeroed in on her face. "Can't wait for it, huh?"

The height of the bed acted in her favor, putting her too low for him to reach comfortably. He leaned over her, hands to either side of her on the bed, and thrust.

Tanya didn't think twice. She snatched the screwdriver out of her pocket and drove it up hard into his belly.

Packer screamed and tried to pull back, but she grabbed his balls and held on for dear life. If he got away from her now, he would kill her. She needed to do more damage.

She turned the screwdriver, as if stirring something thick and heavy, then angled down and started to draw it from the wound.

The man's blood, thick and dark, ran over her hand and dripped down her arm, but she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was tearing his fucking guts out.

He gave a strangled cry and started to collapse on top of her, but she shoved him sideways, using his momentum to roll him so that he landed on his back, legs twisted awkwardly below him.

She gathered her strength and struck again, forcing the screwdriver to tear through flesh and muscle until a thick, ropy section of gut protruded from the wound. Spurred on by her all-consuming fury, she reached into the gaping hole bare-handed and grabbed a fistful of whatever was there and dragged it out.

When the door opened, Packer lay gasping on the bed, eyes bugged out and staring, with his guts all around him, dropping onto the floor and over the bed. Somehow, his heart still pumped and his lungs still drew air. Tanya was glad.

Freak laughed. "Sounds like you're having a good ol' time, Pack—Holy fuck!" He slammed the door. "What the hell did you do, bitch?"

Tanya paused, heaving for breath and uncaring of the blood and gore that soaked her clothing and splashed on her face. "I kept what was mine, fucker."

"Shit!" He ran a hand through his hair. "You made a massive mess for me to clean up, and I don't have the resources here to do it. Fuck!"