Call Me...Vengeance: Book 1 in the Vengeance MC Series (30 page)

“Anything since,” Gage queries.

“Fucking nothing,” Sly confirms what I already knew.

If he was lucky, Marcus is dead at the bottom of a lake. If he wasn’t, he’s submerged in multiple forty-gallon oil drums. That’s how the Cartel prefers to dispose of their dead, after all. Fucking sick, but true nevertheless.

“Break it down for us, brother,” I grate out. “Connect the dots because there’s still fucking more holes than links.”

“Right, so, Vasquez put Markham on his payroll over three years, four months ago, there’s a cash deposit Markham’s account along with the phone records to prove it. One year, four months later Laura and Markham come into contact with each other, the how of it isn’t clear yet, though. They exchange frequent calls, cash changes accounts, and on the face of it, Markham visits her when he’s in Denver. Jump confirms a neighbor’s noticed a black, SUV with rental plates in her driveway, and the dates correspond with Markham landing at DIA. Four months ago, Markham and Ambrose’s contact began like I said, twice weekly calls until just less than a week before our meet, making that almost five weeks ago since they last spoke over the phone. Can’t account for face-to-face meeting seeing as we didn’t know they were even connected until now, but I’m figuring they would’ve met at least once in person.”

Heaving in a breath, Sly pushes on.

“Hells Riders association with Vasquez and Markham doesn’t start until two weeks before Marcus’s calls stop. At this point, we’ve gotta assume Nix made his play, approached Oscar about taking over as his supplier when Vengeance stepped back and came to some agreement on terms that’d happen. Best guess, at that meeting, or not long after, Vasquez passed on Markham’s name to Nix. We all know Vasquez doesn’t do dirty. He keeps his shit locked down tight, so I’m thinking anyone that’s involved with him is under the same directive. Nix connected with Markham over the phone for the first time just over seven weeks ago, the contract was dated and emailed two days after along with a large retainer securing his services.”

“During all that, calls between Laura and Markham didn’t decrease, they actually increased. The black SUV was sighted less, which would account for the extra calls seeing as he wasn’t visiting her as often. Only thing that’s plaguing me, and Brookes for that matter, is not only how Laura and Markham came into contact, but what her part in all this is. Aside from being a stupid bitch who’s gotten herself caught up with a shady motherfucker who makes a living off the scum of the Earth, and being currently unaccounted for, we can’t find the link that’d tie that loose end off.”

“I think I can help with that,” Jump growls from the doorway.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be talking to Laura’s friends and coworkers?” Fury snarls.

“Thought what we found out was more important than going on some wild goose chase for information that would do fuck all to help us find your woman, brother,” he counters angrily.

“Thank fuck,” Sly exclaims releasing a pent-up sigh. “I’ve been going out of my mind trying to work this shit out. Explain away, brother.”

Giving him a chin lift, Jump settles in one of the vacant chairs at the opposite end of the table to me, Cash taking the free seat to his left.

“Overheard part of the story while I was waiting for Sly to take a breath so I could share, so I can confirm Brookes is fucking good at what he does. The problem is, he didn’t have the time to dig back far enough on Laura. Pretty sure, like us, he didn’t see her as the primary threat either.”

Focusing on me, he warns,

“Some of what I’ve got to say isn’t gonna be easy for you to hear, Prez. Part is about as personal as it gets too, so if you want, I’ll save that shit until we can take a minute to discuss it in private.”

Declining, I reply,

“Anything you’ve got to say, say it now. Every man in this room’s got the right to know everything they can about what we’re dealing with.

Cocking his head, Jump studies me carefully measuring the truth of my words.

“I’m not gonna draw this out seeing as we’re burning daylight here, so listen close because I’m only gonna say it once,” he advises the room. “Sixteen years ago, Laura legally changed her name from, Laura Blakemore to, Laura Moore. She moved from Tennessee to Cheyenne, got a job waiting tables while she put herself through college, graduating with a business degree. The surprise being, she didn’t need the money from working a shit job with even shittier hours, Laura had a trust fund she transferred into a new account she set up under her new name. Didn’t have a chance to dig too deep, but on the surface, checks show Mommy and Daddy are fucking loaded. Like, cattle baron loaded. Two years ago wasn’t the first time she and Markham met, they’ve known each other since they were kids. Seems they liked each other enough to keep in contact even after Laura took on her new identity, not to mention, they were united by a common bond, Beth.”

A harsh breath escapes me as I hiss,

“Say again?”

Reminding me with his eyes that I’m not going to like what comes next, Jump goes on to state,

“Apparently, the three of them went to school together, elementary through high school. Laura, Laura back then, was definitely not your woman’s biggest fan. The wall of photos, most of them old yearbook pictures fucking attests to that. Also seems, Laura found an ally on that front in Markham. This is where it’s gonna get hard to hear, Boss. What I’m about to say is a whole new level of fucked up,” he says shaking his head dejectedly.

“Talk,” I bark, not wanting to delay whatever pain is in store for me any longer than absolutely necessary.

“Fuck, fine,” he returns shortly. “Called Brookes when I made the connection between the three of them, but told him to keep what he learned to himself if there was anything to learn. That was my call, so this shit’s on me, not him if you want someone to take your rage out on afterward,” he offers seriously.

“From what Cash and I gathered flicking through your ex- bitch's diaries, one’s she kept in chronological order, Markham and Beth had one date that ended in her disappearing off the face of the Earth. Saying that, she wasn’t hard to track. It’s unclear how Beth got to L.A. since the last withdrawal from her Dad’s credit card was fifty-mile outside of Knoxville, but she did. Four days after she was reported missing, she showed up at a West Hollywood police station to confirm her identity and call off the dogs. Seeing as she was eighteen at the time, legally an adult, the officer that processed her verification closed the case. He did it anonymously and didn’t record his station number, using an override code provided by victim’s services instead. Those codes aren’t used for people who don’t wanna give a forwarding address, Boss, they’re only used in cases when a person can prove they’ve been a victim of a felony crime.”

“What are you trying to say,” I prompt impatiently.

Growling, Jump spits,

“What I’m saying is, Beth was deemed one of those people by the officer who took her statement. He wasn’t buying what she was selling at first, but when she provided him with the name and number of the doctor she saw the day after she arrived in L.A. and he followed it up, he was singing a different tune. Copies of the physician’s report and photos were attached to his report, all of which were sealed up tight unless you’ve got a fucking computer genius on your payroll. Not going into the details, Beth presented with bruising, welts, large sections of the skin on her back abraded, two cracked ribs, a black eye, and a hairline ocular fracture. That wasn’t the worst of her injuries, but it was the majority. A rape kit was done, turning up evidence that she was brutally assaulted, and it happened on the night she was said to be out with Markham at their parent’s country club for dinner. Everything fits. The timeline. Why she’d run. Fucking everything.”

Jesus Christ. My heart is being fucking torn in two hearing everything my woman’s gone through. But just when I think it can’t get worse it does. Epically so.

“Not done yet, brother,” Jump cautions. “Going based on the dates in Laura’s diaries, she and Markham hooked up again nine years back when he flew into DIA for a conference and he looked her up. They’d talked on the phone, but hadn’t seen each other since March of 2006. To be exact, March twenty-fifth, 2006.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I wrack my brain trying to work out why that particular date would mean something to me. Apparently I’m taking too long because Jump lets lose a string of violent curses before making it clear why I have the sinking feeling in the pit of my gut.

“Jesus, fuck, Boss,” he exhales. “Between March twenty-first and April twelfth, you were in San Diego taking a meet with Jed, the Rioters Prez at the time. It fucking guts me to tell you this, but there’s no way Georgia Rae could’ve been yours.”

And just like that, the last piece of my broken heart disintegrates. 

Fear has a funny way of changing the way you look at things. Abject terror, even more so. Until now, I hadn’t thought many things actually scared me, and even less I could claim genuinely terrified me. But that all changed when I looked into the cold dead eyes of one of the men who had captured us.

I’m not positive how it happened. One minute Avery, Bec, and I were driving, the next my car had been rear-ended and it had spun out of control. I must have hit my head on impact because I can’t remember anything until I felt rough, unforgiving hands pulling me from the car and Bec’s screams for them to let her go. It wasn’t long before they faded again too. Everything went blissfully dark for possibly minutes, maybe longer, before I woke up in the room we’re being kept in now.

The room has one window, but it’s too high for me to reach. Cinderblock walls, a single exposed bulb for light, and a stainless steel toilet in the far corner is all I can see. There’s no furniture and only one way out. A door that has only opened twice in however long we’ve been here. That’s another thing, I have no idea how long we’ve been here. It feels like weeks, but in all likelihood, it is probably only been hours. A day at most.

When I first came to, I did so with a jerk. Feeling the thick metal cuffs, at least, two inches wide clamped around both wrists and one ankle, I knew whatever we were in for was bad. Really fucking bad. But I’d had bad before and survived, so I used that as I reminder that this too I would survive. The girls would too. I’d make sure of it.

The steady dripping of blood from a cut on my forehead wasn’t the worst of my injuries, I’m pretty sure I’ve got a split lip, a fractured rib or two, and that I’ve broken three fo my fingers. But as far as injuries go, this isn’t the worst I’ve had either. This too I would survive. Of that, I had no doubt.

When I said the room was dark, I mean, it’s dark. There’s no illumination from the overhead bulb, and no moonlight to dimly light the room. Not even a sliver of light from under the door to cast shadows. Nothing. Pitch black with shades of gray is all my eyes can see even after giving them long minutes to adjust.

Calling out, my voice raspy, I ask,

“Bec, Avery, are you here? Are you okay?”

A wet cough sounds from what I think is diagonally opposite, followed by a pained whimper.

“Y-Yeah, I’m here, babe.”

“Bec,” I plead softly. “Bec, honey?”

“Jesus. My head is fucking killing me. Keep it down, Bethy,” Bec’s sarcastic retort sounds weakly. I know she’s using humor as her attempt to distract her and probably us from the severity of the situation, but in this case, it falls flat.

Shifting awkwardly, sliding myself further up the wall into sitting position, I question,

“How badly are you guys hurt?”

Another cough drawing a groan sounded as Avery replies,

“I’ll live. Not positive, but I think one of my ribs has nicked my lung.”

“Do I want to know how you know that?” Bec prompts, her voice wavering.

“Probably not, but seeing as we’ve got nothing better to do I’ll tell you, I didn’t learn this shit in Girl Guides,” Avery quips in return.

Focusing on Bec, I probe,

“And you, Bec? Are you alright?”

“I’m just fine and dandy,” she snorts. “Aside from being cuffed to a wall, my head aching like a motherfucker, and my ass being numb, I think this was the perfect welcome to Furnace, don’t you?”

All three of us accounted for and relatively whole if you didn’t count Avery’s possible punctured lung, I breathed the first and only sigh of relief that night. We might be shackled, held prisoner by people whose faces we hadn’t seen and didn’t know, but we were together and breathing. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

None of us had anything else to say. All of us sat quietly for hours waiting to see what would come next. Scraping sounds echoed throughout the hallway beyond the door. Occasional laughter from men, muffled by the thick concrete walls permeated the door. I don’t know if that’s what scares me more. Knowing there are people out there, people who could save us but won’t, or what those people intend to do when they do eventually come in here. Because I have no doubt, they will. They wouldn’t have taken us prisoner if they didn’t have an ulterior motive or use for us.

Breaking the silence, Avery’s faint whisper is like music to my ears.

“I’m just going to put this out there, but I’m thinking my Dad isn’t going to be all that happy with this latest development.”

“Ah, hate to break it to you, chick, but I’m not happy about it either,” Bec replies sullenly.

“No,” Avery coughs. “I don’t mean it that way. What I meant to say was, he’ll come for us. I don’t want either of you to lose hope, because if there’s one thing I know about my Dad is; he won’t stop until I’m home and both of you are too.” Taking a shallow breath, she adds, “That goes for, Boss too. He won’t rest until he’s brought you home, Beth. I promise.”

God, I hope she’s right.

A dull thud followed by the screech of the door opening has my head snapping toward the sound. I can feel my heart begin to beat frantically as my chest heaves trying to draw air. Boots pound across the concrete floor as whoever has entered make his way to the wall opposite me. The flick of a switch casts a dull, sickly yellow light throughout the room, and as my head swivels to take in Avery and Bec, I let out a startled gasp.

For all intents and purposes, Bec looks okay. She has a goose egg size knot on the side of her head, near her temple, and some bruising down the same side of her face, but that aside, she looks not too worse for wear. But Avery? My god.

I assume the red welt diagonally across her neck is from the seat belt snapping into place during the accident, but that isn’t remotely as alarming as the large shard of glass protruding from her forearm. At least six inches in length, the skin around it is raised, and blood is steadily leaking, dripping down her arms pooling beneath her fingers in a gruesome puddle.

Her eyes look sunken, the dark circles that have formed under them are a stark reminder of just how much blood she’s lost. Scrapes and cut cover her other arm, but they don’t have anything on the jagged wound on her left forearm. The way her right arm is hanging limply by her side is also cause for concern. From the little I can see, I assume it’s dislocated. Without her lifting her shirt to show us the extent of the injuries to her torso, I can also tell by the way she is gingerly supporting herself against the wall that her ribs are most definitely broken. How many? I don’t know. My best guess is more than I have, but not so many that she is critical. Yet.

“Gonna be taking your friend with me for a chat with my boss. Need you to be good girls while she’s gone, yeah?” The man’s voice growls.

Looking him over, I notice something that makes him appear familiar to me. I can’t put my finger on it, my mind is too foggy to make sense of what I’m seeing, but I know I’ve seen him before, I just can’t place where. His voice is familiar too. It is one of those voices that’s memorable, not many men have the deep cadence that he has. I wrack my brain try to come up with a memory, a vision, a clue as to who has us, but again, I come up empty.

“Ah, I don’t think so big guy,” Bec bravely answers him. “How about you tell us why we’re here and what you want instead.”

I don’t blame her for asking, I want answers just as much as she does, but glancing over at him, I don’t think he’s the one who’s going to give them to us. Something he confirms a second later.

“How about you shut the fuck up, bitch, and be grateful you don’t have a bullet between your eyes.” Taking a step further into the room, I make out his profile in the dim light.

“Holy shit,” I gasp.

Snapping his eyes to me, he shakes his head once, pinning me with a glare that tells me to keep his identity to myself.

“You shut the fuck up too. My boss is gonna want to talk to you later, and I don’t wanna have to explain why you’re missing half your teeth because you couldn’t follow simple fucking instructions.”

Like I said, this guy is memorable. I only met him once at Vengeance’s clubhouse and at the time, I thought he was a decent man. Good looking, handsome, even though his looks were rougher than most. Dark hair weeks past needing a trim, curls around the collar of his stained, white wife beater that is partially covered by his cut. Stunning turquoise eyes, weary and alert at the same time assess all of us from under a heavy fall of thick lashes. He’s built too. At least six and a half feet of solid muscle, coiled and primed to fight.

Ink decorates his arms from shoulder to wrist on both sides, and I’m positive that’s not the extent of the collection he has. All-in-all, he’s not a man to be messed with. Everything about how he carries himself, the way he watches us, and speaks tells me this man isn’t someone we want to piss off. However, there is another side to this man. One I’ve seen. One that’s softer than what he’s showing us now. One I hope comes out soon.

“Lord…” Avery asks, voice cracking.

“Shh, Ree. Don’t know how many ears are on this joint, cameras either,” he growls in warning.

“One in the hall, far end. None in here. At least not that I saw. Unless they’re packing high-end tech, and I highly doubt these assholes can afford that, there aren’t any bugs either. Two men on each exit, all wearing the same patch, and an extra on guy posted in the lot out front when we drove in,” she shares helpfully.

“Fuck me,” he mutters. “Forgot whose kid you were for a second there.” Shaking his head sadly, he goes on to say, “I gotta take you, though, Ree. They’re expecting me to come back with you, and me leavin’ you here is only gonna tip them off that somethin’ isn’t right.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replies steadying herself on the wall as she uses it to push herself off the floor. “Any idea what I’m looking at when I get in there?”

As strong as she is, Avery can’t hide the flash of fear that passes through her eyes, and I don’t blame her. I’m terrified of what’s going to happen to us, and technically nothing has yet. I can only imagine what she’s feeling.

“I’ll do everythin’ I can to get them to go easy, girl. Can’t promise shit, but you have my word that if I can, I’ll do whatever I can to get you and your girls out of here, yeah?”

Resigned, Avery gives him one jerky nod.

“If there’s a chance, get them out of here. I don’t care if you’ve got to leave me to do it, just get them gone and call my Dad, okay?” Avery prompts when Lord just stands there looking at her as if she’s lost her mind. Probably because she has.

If Avery thinks I’ll allow her to use herself as bait, she’s got another thing coming. We’re all in this together, no matter what.

“No,” I bite out. “You’re not sacrificing yourself for us. Not now, not ever.”

A sad smile creeps across her lips as she says,

“You don’t know what sort of thing these people are capable of, Beth. They aren’t like the bikers you’ve met. They are ruthless, violent, sadistic criminals who wouldn’t give a second thought to hurting a woman if they got something out of it. And that something doesn’t have to be information. It could simply be for their pleasure or because they’re bored.” Her eyes plead with me as she begs, “You have to promise if Lord comes for you, you’ll go with him. No questions. No arguing. Do not fight it. He’ll make sure you get back to the club safe, and you can make sure he calls my Dad.”

When Bec and I remain silent, Avery repeats,

“Promise me, Beth. If you can’t, then Bec has to. Promise me if the opportunity arises you’ll run like hell and not look back.”

“No, I won’t,” I spit.

At the same time, Bec agrees,

“She’ll do it because I won’t give her a choice.”

“Enough,” Lord commands. “You bitches can fight this out once we’re gone, but mark me, if I come back to get your asses out of here, you’re only getting’ one shot at it. You don’t come willingly, you fucking stay. And that’s a promise I’m more than fucking happy to make.”

His eyes soften as he turns to Avery, taking her upper arm in his huge hand.