Call Me...Vengeance: Book 1 in the Vengeance MC Series (31 page)

“Come on, girl. They’re waitin’ on you, and I need to keep my cover if I’m gonna be able to help you or them.”

Turing back as she reaches the doorway, Avery gives us another sad, resigned smile.

“Do as he says when he comes for you, because he will. I promise.” With that, the door slams behind them and Avery is gone leaving me with nothing but more questions. The biggest one being; if and when I’ll ever see her again.

*****

I’d like to tell you that Bec and I passed the hours after Avery left sitting and waiting for her return, but we didn’t. The hours after Lord took Avery were spent in agony the likes I’ve never experienced before and doubted I ever would again. At least, I hoped I wouldn’t. I prayed I wouldn’t.

I was separated from Bec within minutes of Avery leaving. A man I don’t know and hoped I never met again, dragged me from the room by my hair, down the long hall, and into another room much smaller than the one I’d spent the last few hours in.

It was colder, mustier, water pooled in the corners, dripping down the unfinished concrete surface. It was brighter too. A long, thin, single UV light suspended by chains hung from the ceiling. A solitary metal chair in the center of the room looked more ominous than it should, and for good reason.

The man who had one heavy hand wrapped around the mass of my hair, unceremoniously dumped me in the chair, handcuffed both of my ankles to the two front legs, and my wrists to the metal bars supporting the base. He didn’t say a word, leaving before I could find mine to ask what was going on. Fear had frozen my vocal cords, and I was petrified that if I made a sound, it would only be to scream.

I refused to give these people the satisfaction of begging, pleading, even screaming for them to let us go. I knew they wouldn’t, and it would more than likely amuse them to hear me negotiate for the lives of my friends. I might not know much about men like these, regardless of Avery’s warning, but I knew enough. They were ruthless, arrogant bastards who undoubtedly would find a woman’s suffering enjoyable.

Each moment, every minute that passed after I was cuffed to that chair was a nightmare. A waking nightmare. One I would give the last breath in my body to never have to relive.

Men came and went individually and in pairs. The last time there were three. My body was fighting to stay conscious, and it was a fight I didn’t think I was going to win. I didn’t want to come back into the here and now. I wanted to drift into the darkness I’d sent my mind to. I needed to reveal in unconsciousness to gather the last of my will to survive.

I tried to shut out the blinding, white-hot pain that seared almost every inch of my body. I wasn’t successful, but it did help to focus on the fact that they hadn’t gone as far as they could have. They hadn’t raped me. Yet. Not yet, and I could only pray, not at all.

Hours ago the screams from the room on the other side of mine had faded into the occasional pained yell. Tears were replaced by violent whimpers. Hearing Bec plead for them to kill her, to just end it all tore my heart apart. The waves of desperation I felt at her plight almost had me breaking my own vow not to give them the satisfaction of hearing me beg for the same.

Blood was pooling, clotting, congealing on the floor where it had dripped from the tips of my fingers and toes. I was stripped of everything but my bra and panties the first time someone came in. They were cut from my body with a large hunting knife that had to be at least eight inches long. They weren’t gentle about it. It wasn’t done methodically or carefully. The blade penetrated my skin, digging into the flesh at my breastbone, my thigh, and the front of my calf.

There wasn’t any discernable process to their torture, but one thing was evident; they didn’t want information. We were here for a reason, sure, but they didn’t ask any questions. They didn’t demand answers. Most of the time they didn’t talk at all. And when they did, it was only to detail exactly what they were going to do next. Details that made me shudder visualizing them, let alone living through them.

I had been whipped with a belt. My face had been punched, slapped, clawed until not one inch had been left untouched. The kicks to my ribs, my mid-section, and outer thighs had been brutal. But it was the cigars that burned perfectly round circles into the skin of my forearms that caused me to grin my teeth to stave off the agonizing screams as my skin melted beneath them. When they found my weakness, they didn’t stop, it got worse.

The last thing I can remember before I passed out briefly – too briefly – was the scorching sensation of my flesh burning as the hot brand dug deep into the muscle of my shoulder. Two seconds of the most horrific smell, that of charcoaled skin, my own no less, was more than my body could handle.

It was coming up on twenty-four hours since our women, my woman had been taken from us, and I knew it was time. Time to make a call that was going to blow a man’s world apart. And there wouldn’t be a thing I could do to put it back together again. Pressing the button that would dial his number, I took a deep, slow breath, probably the last I would take for a good long while.

“Brother,” his cautious voice echoes on the line.

“Saint, you and I need to talk. Get somewhere you don’t have company, brother,” I request.

Boot falls followed by the clanging of a door closing signals his agreement before he asks,

“My baby doing okay? Not giving you boys too much grief?”

Jesus, I fucking hated having to do this to him. Saint hasn’t had an easy run of it over the last few years. His family had been through some major upheavals, one’s that would have broken a weaker man, but Saint had pulled himself and them through it with the stoicism we’d all come to expect from him. In saying that, he didn’t handle everything that way, not initially. But after he’d burned out his rage, taken his anger out on the heavy bag and a few of his brothers, he went back to being the man everyone had come to depend on.

Hence, why I hate having to do this to him. A man could only take so much in one lifetime, and he’d already had more than his fair share.

“We’ve got a problem, brother, and I think we’re gonna need your particular expertise to help us solve it.”

Where Gage and Fury are beasts, Saint is downright animalistic in his approach to problem solving. More than any other man I’ve ever had the pleasure or displeasure of meeting depending on how you looked at it. For years, he’d sat by and let his brothers, Reaper and Tank get their hands dirty as Devil’s Spawn’s Enforcer and SAA but now it was his era. And Saint was creating a legacy no man would be able to live up to. There isn’t a man, biker, or common criminal this side of the Colorado border who’d dare mess with Saint, at least, that was what I was counting on.

“You want to tell me what the fuck is going on before I start formulating my own opinions? Opinions, I know you’re not gonna like, but I gonna like a whole lot less.”

“No easy way to say this, Saint, and I wish like hell I wasn’t having to, but Avery’s gone. And with her, my woman and a friend of hers, Bec.”

“You wanna fucking repeat that for me, Boss, because I swear it sounded like you just told me my baby’s been taken out from underneath your noses,” he growls.

Telling him straight, I give him all the information I’ve got.

“Hells Riders ran my woman’s car off the road last night. Avery and Bec were with her. All signs point to a setup because tire tracks indicating Beth tried to break and swerve were found at the scene. Had boys canvassing every inch of the site looking for clues, but we’ve come up with shit. Her car was towed back here early this morning, and I’ve got boys combing it for anything we could’ve missed around the clock. You know we’ve had a beef with HR’s for decades, that hasn’t changed, but them in bed with Black Widows, probably Vasquez Cartel too means they’ve gotten cocky. Taking our women is a power play, brother. We haven’t heard from them. No ransoms. No instructions. No demands. I need you to know it was my call to keep you in the dark, I wanted to have all the intel before I called to fill you in. But seeing as we’re not getting anything new, haven’t for hours, I’ve gotta ask you to get on your bike and bring backup.”

“You said this happened last night?” He queries. “How many hours we talking about?”

“Twenty-three and forty-nine minutes, brother.”

A violent string of curses escapes him, so I sit and wait. For him to get a hold of himself? Regain his control? Fuck no, because that wasn’t going to happen. Not until his little girl was home again. I waited until he was ready to go on because that’s all we could do. There was nothing else. Go on. Move forward. Bring them home.

“You know where they are?” He grunts roughly.

“Got a good idea. We haven’t cased the joint yet, I figured you’d wanna be in on that. There aren’t many places those bastards can hide, and they aren’t all that fucking clever either. The main clubhouse, safe houses were all ruled out early, but they’ve got a warehouse about twenty miles due west of here. Underground-aboveground structure, basic layout, we got council planning blueprints in about a half hour ago. Figured you’d wanna see them too, so we were waiting for you so we can go over how we’re gonna extricate them,” I offer, knowing he’ll be on his bike in minutes.

“How many brothers you got in on this rescue effort?”

“All of them,” I say with a self-depreciating laugh. “Jump and Spook are on the road leading out north, Sly and Sniper are on southbound exits. We’ve got five brothers covering the woods on the west side of the property keeping an eye, and three on the east which is the main entrance in and out.”

“Why the fuck isn’t Gage out there? He’s gotta be the best man for the job, and one of the smartest brothers I’ve ever fucking met,” Saint demands to know.

Jesus, fuck. How the hell do I answer that without telling him I’ve had to lock Gage down and why?

“He’s not fit to ride, brother,” I hedge.

Losing patience, Saint barks,

“You trying to tell me he’s fucking hammered when my baby is out there missing, suffering fuck knows what?”

“Fuck, no,” I snap. “It’s not my place to tell you shit, but you’re just gonna have to trust me when I say that there’s no man, that includes you that’s more torn up about Avery being taken.”

“I don’t have to trust shit, and I don’t have time to sit around and gossip like I’ve grown a vagina in the last ten minutes. My girl is gone, and I’ve got brothers to round up,” he replies coolly. “I know we’re not gonna be able to spare as many men as I’d like, but I’m calling Reaper, Tank, and Glock in on this. I’m assuming you’re good with them? And brother, if you’re not, I don’t give a fuck.”

“I’ll be calling Cage as soon as we disconnect, but it’s safe to say, yeah, brother, I’m good with that. Might need you to feel out Reaper and see if Ade will make the ride with him too, though.”

Hissing, Saint surmises,

“Fuck,” before grunting, “That can only mean one thing. One thing I don’t want to think about when I’m an hour and a half away and can’t fucking sprout wings and get my ass there any faster. You got a doc on standby?”

“Yeah, he’s at the clubhouse. Has been for a couple of hours now. Everything’s ready to go as soon as you and your brothers get here, Saint,” I assure him.

“I’ll talk to Reaper, get him prepped, tell him to speak to Ade.” A second or two passes before the desperation he’s struggling to contain breaks through. “Please, fuck, tell me my girl’s gonna be alright. Fucking lie if you have to, Boss because I don’t have the first fucking clue what I’m gonna do if she’s not.”

So, I do the only thing I can, the only thing he’s asked of me, I lie.

“She’s gonna be okay, brother. I promise. And if she isn’t, we’ll make her that way.”

Saint disconnects a few minutes later leaving me free to call his President. Another call I didn’t want to make. Thankfully, that call went a whole lot smoother.

Cage got why I’d kept the information to myself, don’t think he agreed, but he got it. Devil’s Spawn as an MC was far from stupid. Not like a lot of others we’ve come across in our time. Their outfit is filled with men who have experience, are smart, cunning, and have a whole lot of heart. None of which are stupid. They got in over their heads more than a few times when it came to their women, did things Vengeance didn’t agree with to get those women free of their dramas, but they weren’t idiots. They played things safe, close to their chests, thought shit out. They were intelligent enough to know when to call for reinforcements and did so without letting their ego getting in the way.

Conversation with Cage done, him confirming Tank, Reaper, Glock, and Saint were already on their bikes headed out way, I took the time to shower and clear my head. I can’t sit in church with my head as fucked up as it is now. Not that I thought it was going to be much better in the time it took to scrub my body clean of the filth I could feel seeping from my pores at the thoughts filtering through my mind, but it wouldn’t hurt either.

Stripping my shirt over my head, I turn the water to as hot as I can stand and step into the small cubicle. Bracing my hands on the tile in front of me, I let the water sluice over my head, running down my neck and back as the steam fogs the glass mirroring the fogginess of my mind. It isn’t long before my thoughts turn to how everything between Beth and I is going to play out once we bring her home. I’d been successful at blocking out the future until now. Actually, I’ll rephrase that; I’d been successful in not looking past how and when we’d get her back.

Part of my success was due to me having about one hour tops to myself since she’d been taken, and in part because I’d locked all thoughts that wouldn’t lead to her rescue in a box at the back of my brain for when cooler head prevailed. I wasn’t anywhere near close to calm now, but I did have time to think. And that shit is dangerous for a man like me. A man in love with a woman who may, or may not, come back to him whole.

Fury, Gage, Cash, fuck, even Sly had warned me my relationship with Beth was moving too fast. Warned me that I was getting to attached to her. Too wrapped up in her pussy to see sense. That last comment had earned Sly a busted lip and a trip to Doc for a few stitches. Don’t get me wrong, I could see where they were coming from, I probably would have said the same of them if they’d gotten involved with a woman so completely, so quickly. But they didn’t understand. They couldn’t. Not entirely.

Beth was, shit, she is different. There’s not one thing about her that is like any other woman I’ve ever met. Not only is she my matching pair, the second half of my whole, but she’s strong, resilient, and determined. No matter what life threw at her is still throwing at her, she’s overcome it all and moved on with her life.

She isn’t dwelling on shit or wallowing in how unfair what happened to her is. No, not Beth. She took what she learned through hardship and flourished into the woman she is today. All that pain, suffering, and disappointment have made her brave, fearless even. And fuck me if I don’t respect her more for it.

I didn’t realize how deep my feelings for Beth ran until she’d been taken from me. As cliché as it is to say; you never know what you’ve got until it’s gone isn’t fucking wrong. I’ve seen brothers fall to the power and allure of women, seen them suffer at the hands of them too, and because of it, I’d vowed I wouldn’t put myself in that position. We don’t know when it’s going to happen - myself included – but when it does, there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it. The beauty of the burn that comes from the love and compassion only a good woman can give you is something impossible to ignore.

None of that, especially, admitting that I’d lost my heart, willingly, completely, totally to Beth meant anything other than the pain that will inevitably slice through me if the worst happens would eviscerate me. I would be broken in a way that I’d never be put back together again. I’d be fucking destroyed. Ruined. And I’d take that. I’d bear the scar that would leave on my soul over and over again just for the privilege of knowing her, even if it was only for the short time I had.

Standing in the shower, skin raw from the scorching water scalding my skin, I comprehend now what it means to love someone more than myself or my brothers. My family and my friends. To love Beth is to risk everything. There is no piece of me that she’s left untouched, and without her here, without being able to touch her and her touch me, feel her softness wrap around me, smell her, kiss her, be absorbed by her love, I’m nothing. And that, that shatters me. It destroys the last of my resolve, stealing the last of my strength, and breaks the tentative hold I have on my self-control.

It’s now I do something I haven’t done since I was eight years old. Now, I cry. It might only be three tears, one for her, one for me, and one for what could have been, but these three tears are a river to a man like me.