Claiming Crusher: Savage Brothers MC (30 page)

*

I feel like
I’m disconnected from my body. The pain is intense, but it’s almost as if I’m above it all looking down. I keep going in and out of consciousness, so I’m not sure how long Michael has had me. I don’t know why I’ve held on. Maybe I really am stupid like Michael says. Surely a smart person would have already given up and died. I don’t want to live, I’m pretty much done and yet, somehow my body refuses to let go.

I’m being moved. I can hear voices over the pounding in my head. For a brief moment, I thought I felt the warmth of the sun on my body. I’m not sure. I can’t open my eyes, their swollen shut. I don’t exactly remember when that happened, I just remember the repeated blows from Michael. I’m burning up…fever…infection…the thoughts are jumbled in my head, but I know that’s what it is. I’ve lost blood, but nowhere near enough. Michael is a master at going to the limits of what a body can withstand. Still, he wants me dead, so this beating, this punishment is so far beyond anything he’s ever done before.

I hear the slam of a door and then we start moving. A car…I’m not in a seat though. I’m pretty sure they’ve thrown me in the trunk. There’s a moment when they go over something that jars the car and I bounce, causing even more pain than when they moved me. Railroad tracks. I let the hum of the car take over in my head and try to…die. It doesn’t happen. Breathing is getting harder though. Each breath is painful and shallower than the last. Is this a sign that it will all be over soon?

Eventually, the vehicle comes to a stop. I can hear the soft thud of doors closing. At least I figure that’s what they are, because the car rocks after the sound each time. Above me I hear the trunk lid opening.

My left arm is broken and useless, also the hand itself feels…different. The sleeve of my jacket has been split and there’s a large cut in the skin there. My right arm still seems to be working, but I hold it close to my stomach. I want them to believe it is as useless as the left. I also want them to believe I am completely out of it.

If Michael thinks I am unconscious, then I might be able to store up enough energy to use the knife I still have in my jacket. They’ve cut off the rest of my clothes. I don’t know why they left my jacket. Perhaps I have pure dumb luck? Maybe God decided he needed to answer one of my prayers after all and this is His way. I probably am going to hell soon. I don’t see me making it to the pearly gates, but if I do, I intend on filing a grievance against the whole prayer selection process.

Someone is lifting me and the shift of my bones is so sudden that the pain is blinding. My head is hanging down and straining my neck, the pounding in my head, along with the pain from the rest of me is so all consuming that I almost black out. I can’t let that happen.

I’m tossed down on the ground with a thud. I wait. It seems all I’ve been doing is waiting my whole life. Waiting for Michael to kill me, waiting for someone to rescue me, waiting to feel normal, waiting to feel alive, and waiting to die. That has been my life. Here in this moment I’ve come full circle. Only, this time I know that I can’t wait anymore. I can’t. I can’t wait for someone else to give me, my death. I can’t wait for a rescue. It ends here.

I hear talking off to my right. I can’t make out the words over the drumming pain. It doesn’t matter anyway. My hand pushes under my jacket to the inside pocket. It takes time, I don’t know how long exactly, but enough time to get my fingers and hand to cooperate and find the handle. My hands are covered in blood and the handle keeps slipping out of my grasp. Finally, I get it positioned just right and pull it out of the pocket and lay it under my breast. I do my best to work and try and get my thumb to hit the release button for the blade. I can’t find it, and I can’t see. I have no strength, so I have no idea if I will even be able to push it in. I want to scream at how useless it all seems. I try…I try…and I try. I just can’t seem to get it.

Then, I hear Michael’s voice, “Is she dead yet?”

“She’s not cold, though I don’t see how the bitch could still be breathing,” Donald answers.

“She’s like a fucking cockroach, that’s how,” I hear Michael answer and desperation swamps me.

With renewed strength, I push until I feel the spring snap and the blade unfold. It is Crusher’s hunting knife. I saw it before I left and had to take it. I had hoped to use it on Michael, but since that opportunity didn’t present itself, I have to do what I can.

I want to yell at Michael and give him a great big, fuck you. I can’t. I’m too weak and they might stop me before I can carry this out. All I can do is be satisfied with the fact that I am ending this. Me—not Michael. I’m taking the only thing from him that I can—his pleasure in taking my life.

I should have done it long ago. I just didn’t want to accept that it was my only choice. I’m glad I didn’t. If I had, I would have never met Zander. I would have never got to love him and somehow that is worth all the pain. I do wish I could see his face again, or hear his voice one more time, but perhaps its better this way.

With that thought, I summon up what strength I have left and plunge the knife into my chest. I was aiming for my heart. I don’t think it made it. My hands are shaky and so weak that I know instantly it didn’t do the ultimate damage, but I can feel the blood leaving my body and know it was enough.

“Fuck!” I hear someone growl and I could almost smile. It’s not physically possible even if I wasn’t tumbling into the darkness.

Crusher

I
’m living on
fumes. I look like some motherfucking junkie. I can’t even remember the last time I ate or did any of the things that you normally do to prepare for the day. I don’t even care. I’ve been casing out this motherfucking barn for two days. With each hour that passes it feels like a piece of my soul is being chipped away. The woman I love could be dying, hell maybe she’s already dead, and I’m sitting in the weeds, twiddling my goddamn thumbs and waiting. I try not to imagine what they’re doing to her, but I’m failing. Each thing that comes to my mind is more horrific than the other and my own imagination is slowly driving me crazy.

I just pulled to the end of an old, forgotten road that leads to the barn. I went home last night. I didn’t want to, but I needed to refuel and see if there were any new leads at the club. It’s been two days and I can’t afford to waste more time. I need something to do. I need to find Dani. The problem is, I don’t have any more info and not a fucking source to find more. None. I pour a cup of coffee out of a thermos and watch as my hands shake. Jesus. I have to grip the thermos cup with both hands.

I know I’m fucked up. I know I haven’t been acting rationally. I keep asking myself would it have been different if I had talked to Dragon. Would he have listened when I told him that Kavanagh’s patsy did give me more information? Would Dragon admit he was wrong? The shit I’ve done…I don’t even recognize myself. I don’t know how I knew that Dani hadn’t got away. I just did. Sometimes her face would come to mind, and then I would think of my mom and the fucking shit she put up with and then Melly…and that horrible night when I found Melly with her brains blown out, lying on the floor beside that sick fucker of a father she had and I’d lose it.

It seems my life has been spent surrounded by women that needed my help and my failure, to protect them. I couldn’t save my mom. I couldn’t save Melly. I had vowed to protect Hellcat and I honestly thought I could and yet I fucked that up too. Would Dani have still ran if I hadn’t called her Melly? Would it have made a difference if I explained about Melly? If I had talked with her? I don’t know and all these questions and mistakes I keep making are weighing hard on me. I just need to find Dani, find her and get her home. Then, I can spend the rest of my days trying to prove to her that she’s all I’ll ever need in the world.

I slide out of the truck and trudge through the briars and weeds until I can see the old tobacco barn in the distance. My heart speeds up and skips before hammering in my chest…hard. There are cars out front. Three to be exact and one is a fucking Mercedes Benz. My first urge is to run in there with guns blazing. I can’t risk it. If Dani is in there, then I need to make sure she’s out of harm’s way. I can’t think of her being anything but alive. I just can’t.

I slowly make my way to the barn, trying to be as quiet as I can. I have my gun ready, but I’d rather not let them know I’m around. I noticed a giant crack between the wood on the far side of the structure the other day, and I make that my goal. I get there and can literally taste the adrenaline pumping in my system. Please let Dani be okay, please let Dani….

All thoughts cease as I look through the crack. I want to scream. I want to put my gun in and shoot every fucker in there. I can’t. I need to do this smart. I have to, but what I see breaks me. Dani is lying broken in a corner. She’s unrecognizable. I’m not even sure I’d even realize she was a person, if not for the long dark hair that is knotted and caked with dirt and…blood. Her face is mostly hidden but what I see is swollen and bruised so badly that you can’t even make out her features. Then, I hear the men off to the side talking.

“I planted the bomb in Dragon’s vehicle. It’ll go off when he takes it out of park.”

“It didn’t go off earlier today,” the guy I recognize as Michael says, slapping him on the back of the head.

“Ow,” he says grabbing his head. “It wasn’t supposed to. It set the system up, it’ll go off when the gearshift is moved from park now. You said you wanted them both to pay, Boss.”

Fuck. I need to get a call out to Dragon and warn him. I can’t take the time to do it now though. Doing so, would risk being found and not being able to help Dani. I pray I get through before it’s too late. It twists in my gut that I’m choosing Dani over my brothers, but it doesn’t stop me.

The men talk for a little longer, then Michael and one of the others leave. It takes all I have to let him go. I push up against the barn as they go out the front entrance. I peek around the corner to see them get in a sleek black Mercedes. When they drive off, I take a breath of relief. Before going in and getting my woman, I try and call Dragon. I want to give it enough time to make sure Michael doesn’t come back.

Dragon’s phone rings twice.

“Yeah motherfucker, want to tell me where you’ve been?”

“Drag, listen quick, man.”

“Where in the fuck are you? Do you know what went down today?”

Dragon’s voice is faint at best. The line is full of distortion and noise and I have to strain to hear him.

“Do not use the cages today!”

“What are you saying asshole, I can barely hear you?”

“Man, listen the cars are rigged to blow. I got Dani now, but you really…”

“You got Dani? Fuck, man your signal sucks. Where’d you find her? We’ll…”

“Listen, Dragon! I can’t talk. You got to hear me. The cars, especially yours—don’t use them today. Don’t use any of them, get Freak to…”

The call drops.

Fuck! I try several times to reconnect and keep getting a Call Failed message.

I have to worry about Dani, I don’t have time to spare.

I go to the front of the barn, take a breath to steady myself, and draw my gun. Then, I kick the door open, firing while searching for the fucker that Michael left behind. I train my gun on him and then shoot until the hammer clicks and nothing happens. I watch as his body falls to the ground, then reload my gun in case the others come back.

I go to Dani and get down on my knees, checking her out. The sight of her hurts. It was bad from a distance, but it’s much worse up close. She has to be dead. No one could survive this kind of beating, especially a woman as small as Dani. I should have gotten here sooner. My hand trembles as I move it to her neck, which is colored with…rope burns? Did they strangle her? I try to move her hair, but it’s so caked with mud and… shit, it’s soaked in her blood. I slide my fingers to her throat trying to find a pulse.

I find nothing.

“Oh fuck, Hellcat, don’t do this to me. You’ve got to survive, to punish this S.O.B.”

I go down flat on my ass, feeling the hurt and pain seep into my system. I let another woman down; I was too late…again. I reach out for her hand, I need to hold it, if only for a minute. Her beautiful hand that I’ve felt slide over my body countless times, is now almost as unrecognizable as her face. Her fingers have been broken and they’re swollen and distorted, bending in ways I’m not sure can ever be straightened. Then I notice she has no small finger. It has been cut right at the base of the hand. The wound is open, angry, and infected. Motherfucker.

I scream out in denial, as I pull her broken body over to my lap and I hold her hand in mine. I feel as if I’m dying inside. My eyes close as the tears fall. I close them to try and stop the flow, but it does no good. I see her, her face as she’s laughing at me, her eyes when she needs me, the look on her face as I’m sliding inside of her, and finally my favorite memory. The memory from the day at the beach when she kissed me in front of everyone and gave me a look of trust. Trust she misplaced…because I failed her.