Fury: Book 2 in the Vengeance MC series (25 page)

Boots thump across my living room, and the door slams behind them, leaving me and
t
Lawson alone together. This isn’t ideal but it’s better than the alternative. One man versus four is substantially better odds.

Continuing to glance in his direction every so often, I begin working at the zip ties binding my wrists. When they fastened it, they didn’t make sure to fit the tie at the smallest part of my wrist. Instead, they clasped it just at the base of my hands where everyone is broadest. Mistake.

My wrists are already stinging, but I can feel the zip
t
tie starting to give. The trick is not to pull, but to twist your hands in opposite directions, putting tension on the plastic until it begins to weaken. Plastic reacts to heat as well. So if I can create enough friction, it should help the process along. All I need is for Lawson to get lost for a few minutes, and I’ll be able to use the edge of my coffee table to cut me loose.

Placing his hand on my thigh, Lawson stares straight ahead and declares,

“I wanted you, you know? I knew the time wasn’t right when I got into town, but I was willing to wait as long as you needed before I made my move. For a while, I thought you were interested in me too. You always smiled at me, we had lunch a few times, and when I asked you out for a drink, you told me we’d work something out. Everything was going to plan until fucking Fury came back.”

Ah, not to put too fine a point on it, but I absolutely was
not
interested in Lawson. Ever. Not that I tell him as much. I have the sneaking suspicion that even if I did, he wouldn’t listen anyway.

“What’s he got that I don’t?” Lawson asks in a whiny, petulant tone. “I’ve got cash saved up. I ride a Harley. I have a house in Vancouver, and I would have bought one here if that’s where you wanted to live. I work from home so I could’ve spent all day, every day with you. And I’d give you anything you wanted to make you happy. So Avery, what is it about him that does it for you? Is it the goatee? The tattoos? What?” He finished with a screech.

Treading cautiously, I hedge,

“It’s not any of that, Lawson. Those are just things and appearance, none of that really matters. Fury knows me, he’s known me for years. We were friends first, but I’ve always felt something deeper for him. I was young when we met, though, and he was married. Nothing happened between us until very recently, and I’m sorry if that’s upset you, but I can’t help how I feel.”

Still glaring off into the distance, Lawson spits,

“You know there’s a good chance he won’t come home, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about? Fury’s at the clubhouse, he’ll be home any minute,” I reply, the panic I was holding at bay beginning to rise.

“No, he’s not. He and his brothers got wind that the Rebel Warriors had something to do with you and those two other bitches getting kidnapped, so they’re in Wyoming right now. Aren’t due back for a couple of days, either. It looks like it’s just you and me, Princess. That should give me plenty of time to convince you I’m the better choice,” he ends like it’s a done deal.

I do not think so. Lawson will never be capable of convincing me to change my mind about Fury, regardless of how hard he tries. I don’t care if I have to endure my worst nightmare come to life – again – but I will never surrender to this moron.

Jerking awake, my eyes shoot open when I hear the faint sound of a key being inserted into the lock on the front door. Jesus. I’d forgotten all about Blaine, what with being kidnapped and all.

I have to warn her about Lawson, but seeing as I haven’t been able to slip free of the zip tie as yet, I don’t have a lot of options available to me. Best case scenario I can knock something over and create a stir, but that will only serve to make Blaine coming charging it to see what all the commotion is about.

Then, it hits me. I can just get my ass up and walk. Up until an hour or so ago after Lawson dropped his Fury being out of town bombshell, he’d been sitting beside me. Considering his work for the moment done, Lawson headed into the hall that leads to my bedroom and hasn’t come back since.

Remember what I told you about these guys being stupid; well, crown Lawson the king of Stupidtown because he deserves to be their leader.

Making enough noise to wake the dead, Blaine drops something, cursing profusely as she cracks open the door. I don’t have a lot of time to warn her if I don’t want Lawson finding out someone’s here, so I scoot to the edge of the couch and push myself up, bee-lining for the door.

I skid to a stop less than a foot away from Blaine, her eyes wide and mouth gaping open.

“Go! We need to go right the hell now.”

“What in the world,” Blaine exhales on a gasp.

“No time. Go, go, go,” I whisper, shoving her out the door. “Don’t shut it, I don’t want him to know I’m gone yet.”

Running full-tilt toward Blaine’s late model Camaro, I wrench open the door and dive inside. Blaine is only a beat behind me, so when she’s in, I yell,

“Oh, my God, B. Would you just fucking drive already? Straight to the clubhouse. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. I’ll explain on the way.”

Blaine blinks at me, her face a mask of confusion but she does what I ask. Slamming her foot on the gas, we fishtail out of the parking lot and pull onto the road in a cloud of burning rubber.

“Talk fast, Avery,” Blaine screams over the sound of screeching tires as we round the corner.

“Okay, so I might have found myself in a teeny, tiny bit of trouble,” I admit, flicking the glovebox open and searching for something to cut the zip tie from my wrist.

“You don’t say,” she mutters, taking another turn at speed.

“It’s not my fault I attract crazies. Do you think I like being kidnapped? That would be a negative, Ghostrider,” I snap back.

Blaine gives me a dumbfounded look that screams, ‘you’re insane and I don’t know whether to slap you or commit you.’ Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything and focuses on driving instead.

Finding a pair of nail clippers, buried deep at the back of the rest of the junk she hauls around in her ‘death machine’ –that’s what Uncle Tank, her Dad calls Blaine’s V8 supercharged 2014 Camaro. I fumble with them for a second before getting a firm grasp on the handle, quickly and efficiently freeing myself with a tool best suited to a mani-pedi.

“Great, you’re free. Now that we’ve probably broken every road rule in existence, and soon we’re going to have to explain to a bunch of testosterone laden bikers how the hell you managed to get kidnapped, again, you can start freaking talking,” Blaine snaps, her patience a thing of the past.

Soothing the sting around my wrists by wrapping them in the hem of my shirt, I sigh.

“I was minding my own business folding laundry, waiting for Fury to come home when three jackasses broke into our apartment and hit me in the temple with the butt of a gun. When I woke up I was on the couch, my hands were zip-tied, and the three jackasses were in a huddle in the corner. One of them got pissed because of something I said,”

“Go figure,” Blaine interrupts in a tone that sounds like she’s saying; duh.

“Shut it, missy. Don’t give me any lip.” I’m appeased when Blaine makes the universal sign for zipping her mouth shut, and continue recounting this afternoons’ events. “Anyway, one of them got pissed, punched me in the face and said a whole bunch of crap about me needing to stay quiet or he’d make me quiet. Jackass whatever number took a call and the person on the other end of the line told him they’d be there in five. Then, low and behold, Lawson the rat bastard walks in the door.”

“Seriously? Lawson? Wow, I didn’t think he had it in him. I always thought he was kind of a weasel.” She’s telling me.

“Yeah, but back to the point,” I huff. “He came in looking tweaked, I’d be willing to bet strung out on Meth, and proceeded to tell me he wants me to be his girlfriend and he’d buy us a house here.”

“Fuck a duck,” Blaine hisses.

“Uh-huh, I know right. He’s straight up, cray-zee,” I mutter, pulling my knees to my chest, the heels of my feet resting on the edge of the seat. “So, after his heartfelt declaration, Lawson took off down the hall and didn’t come back out. I’m hoping he isn’t OD’d in my bedroom because that would just be sick. Not to mention, I don’t think I’d ever be able to sleep in there again. But, whatever. This is where you come in. I heard you at the door, by the way, you make more noise than a herd of baby rhinoceroses, so I got up and made a break for it. And here we are, end story,” I finish thoroughly exhausted.

“Um, I don’t know what to say,” Blaine concedes. “Wow. Just wow. One question, though.”

Gesturing for her to ask, I reply,

“Just one because I’m kinda tired now.”

“Why are you not freaking the hell out? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of you for keeping it together, but this is creeping me out Ave. Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, curled into the fetal position crying like a baby or something?” She rushes out.

Giggling at her description of where my mental state should be, I challenge,

“I can see what I can do if you’d like. But personally, I’d prefer to pass on the crying jag and focus on the fact I’m alive if it’s all the same to you.”

“Sure,” Blaine replies cheerfully.

Gravel spraying up the sides of the car, Blaine and I pull into the clubhouse forecourt a minute or so later. Thankfully, the two prospect manning the gate know her car or I can only imagine their reaction to a couple of crazy women, driving a supped up muscle car at high speed into an MC lot.

Alighting from the car, we’re met with a wall of leather and muscle, and one very irate Sarge.

“What in the ever-loving fuck are you two thinking driving like that? You’re gonna get yourselves killed one of these days’ joy riding around town.”

At this point, I’d like to say that if I could, I’d disown my life-long best friend. Why? Because she has a big mouth and no diplomacy when it comes to handling sensitive matters like this. One of her not so admirable qualities.

“Well, see…” she starts.

Sarge, tapping the toe of his kickass Harley boot in annoyance, demands,

“Spit it out, girly. I don’t have all day.”

Blaine crosses her arms over her chest huffing.

“Avery got herself kidnapped, tied up and hit on by a lunatic. I came home and rescued her, and now we’re here. After a high-speed escape, I need cookie dough stat, so out of my way boys.”

Leaving me staring at her in awe of her ability to summarize, I notice no one else is sharing in my newfound respect for my best friend. No. Instead, they’re all looking at me like I’ve grown a second head.

I give them a finger wave – because I’m weird like that – and try to reassure them by telling them,

“I’m okay, really. If it helps, I can give you a description and we know one of them, so they shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

Searching the group for Deke because, after all, it is his cousin I’m talking about, I’m somewhat mollified he’s nowhere to be seen. Sarge uses that as his opportunity to take a firm but gentle hold of my upper arm and propel me through the door of the clubhouse into the main room, sitting me down on the closest chair.

Barking out the order for one of the prospects behind the bar to fetch the first aid kit, he asks,

“You hurt anywhere other than your wrists and your cheek?”

“Nope,” I say, popping the p.

“Do we need privacy for any of the details you’re gonna tell me?”

“Nope, again, big guy. I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me other than what you can see, and they didn’t touch me aside from inflicting said injuries. I’m all good. I could do with a drink, though,” I suggest, giving him an award winning smile.

Shaking his head, Sarge mutters,

“Get the girl a drink. We’re gonna be over there having a chat, so bring it to her when it’s ready.”

Guiding me to the mass of couches and recliners in the far corner near the pool tables, Sarge sits kitty-corner to me and orders me to retell the series of events that led to our arrival in a hail of gravel and dust.

*****

Half an hour and three tequila shots later, I’ve got a good buzz going and feel like I could fall asleep at any second.

I told Sarge everything, along with giving him descriptions of the men I couldn’t put names to, and eventually, telling him Lawson was at the center of it all. To say Sarge was enraged at the mention of Lawson’s name would be a ginormous understatement.

“I’m gonna have to put a call into your man, Avery. He needs to know what went down, and the longer I keep it from him, the worse it’s gonna be,” Sarge warns.

“Don’t. Please, don’t,” I beg tiredly. “Lawson said something about Fury and some of the guys being in Wyoming looking for the men who took me last time. I don’t want to compromise his focus, that’s how people get hurt. Just wait, okay?” I say, still pleading. “I’m not saying he doesn’t have the right to know or that I won’t tell him, I just want to wait until he’s home to do it.”

Sarge takes a deep, aggravated breath in through his nose and lets it out slowly. Then another. And then another. I can almost hear him mentally counting to ten.

“Avery, love, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I know you love that boy, but you’re his old lady and it would gut him to know you were here hurting and he didn’t know about it. He was trying like mad to call you before he left. So much so, you could see his reluctance to leave when you didn’t pick up. You’re fucking loopy if you think Fury won’t lose his shit when he gets back and finds you beat to hell. Add to that, his brothers kept if from him, and who knows what he’ll do.”

“Don’t need to worry about that, brother. I’ve already called him,” a deep, rich voice sounds from beside me.

“Deke,” I sigh sadly. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, darlin’. The only person who does is that good for nothing cousin of mine. He’s been fucked up for a while now, but I didn’t realize he’d gotten this bad. Fuck me,” he growls as he steps out of the darkness and gets a good look at the side of my face.

I cover his hand that’s resting on the arm of my chair and say,

“It looks worse than it is,”

“I fucking doubt that, Avery. Jesus!” He exclaims, thrusting his hands into his hair, a gesture that reminds me of Lawson. “I should’ve known something was going on with him. He was getting money, a fuck ton of it from somewhere and I didn’t bother asking how. Losing weight, getting fucked up more often, but even then I didn’t think much of it. Lawson’s always dabbled in shit he shouldn’t, but this would be the first time he’s taken it far enough for it to be called an addiction.”

“You making excuses for him, boy? Because let me tell you; if you are, save it,” Sarge barks.

“No. Fuck, no. That motherfucker is on his own. You know me better than that, brother. No man should lay hands on a woman, that shit just isn’t right. Boss gets back and gives the order, I’ll be all over hunting the fucker down and making him pay for what he did to you, Avery. I promise you that.” Deke vows solemnly.