The Possibility of Trey (27 page)

"Oh, my. I didn't realize I had gotten so worked up," she exclaimed, beginning to fan herself.

Trey found the container for the nitroglycerin pills and brought it to her. "Do you take one or two?"

"Just one. I've been doing so much better, you know, so I'm not as tuned in to my body as I should be." One of her hands fluttered at her collar as Miller went to stand next to her, rubbing her shoulders with his one hand. She opened her mouth and Trey dropped the pill in.

"Calm yourself, my beauty," Miller whispered as he continued to rub his wife's back.

Trey watched as some of the color receded and Mary's breaths eased back while the medicine worked its magic.

"I think I let myself get too excited," she murmured with a shy look at Trey.

"I've heard I have that effect on women," he joked. "If you're doing better, I think I'll go look for my girl. Do you know if she walked or took her truck up there?"

"Her truck I think though I don't like this new one she bought. I know she said she was tired of making payments but this one's not as nice as the other," Miller answered.

"What color is it again?" Trey knew by adding the 'again' it made it sound like he and Dallas communicated. But he was well aware why she'd traded in her fucking sweet ride and it had shit-all to do with payments.

"Silver, I think," Mary replied sounding more like herself.

"Do you remember what she was wearing?"

"Ah, a black tank and black stretch shorts. Oh, but her running shoes are pink. Just look for someone wearing pink shoes and that's our Lally!"

"You know, I forgot my phone back at work. Could I use yours just to see if she's on her way here. I'd hate to miss her." He knew lying was underhanded but since she'd had her phone disconnected, he had no number to reach her.

"Sure, Trey. It's on the kitchen counter." Perfect! The phone was just around the corner, unseen from the rest of the room. Trey made short work of programming Dallas's new number into his cell.

"I'm anxious to see her so I'm gonna try and find her. I'll see you soon, Miller. And you, beautiful lady, keep an ear on that heart, okay?" Trey said before leaving, antsy to find her, to just be near her.

Making his way to Donny, he gave him the info on where they were going and who they were looking for. He also asked the brother to keep his eyes out for a 2009 Chevy truck, silver in color.

They found the park and Donny spotted the truck but neither one of them saw anyone, jogger or otherwise, dressed in black and sporting pink kicks.

"Shit, it's locked up tight and I see an alarm," Trey murmured after trying both doors before cupping his hands around his eyes to see inside.

"On it," Donny mumbled, pulling a small black rectangle from his pocket. He pointed the box at the truck and pushed a few buttons. Trey heard the sweet beep of the alarm disengaging as the locks on both doors popped.

"You’re a fucking genius, amigo!" he cried, gaining Trey a quirk of a lip from Donny. Opening the door, he couldn't help his deep inhale as he smelled her. Clean, real and true hit his nose, his brain, his heart and his cock all at the same time. And almost brought him to his knees. "Where are you, Tex?" he whispered into the empty cab.

"We could, like, ask around. The kicks are distinctive. Maybe someone, like, saw her or something."

"You want the playground or the BB court?"

"Don't matter," came Donny's reply.

They split up and it only took Trey three tries before one young mother spoke up. "Yeah, she runs almost every day. She was here until about a half-hour ago."

"Did you see where she went?" Trey signaled to Donny who trotted across the large expanse of grass to where Trey stood.

"Two guys wearing a vest thing like you took her to their van. Only their vests were gray."

"Thank you. We really appreciate your help," Donny said after both the woman and the younger man waited for Trey to end the conversation, but he never uttered a word.

The fucking Ghosts had his Dallas!

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I was awakened by loud music. Goddamn Drake! I'd told him and told him to keep the volume down. I shook my head to clear it as I tried to push the covers off, intending to bang on his door and rip him a new one.

But I couldn't move.

Wait…what?

I opened my eyes but I wasn't at home. In the little bit of light coming around the cracks in the door to my right, I thought I was in some kind of closet.

I glanced down and saw I was sitting in on a chair. Trying to move, my tight shoulders wrenched. I tried to twist my wrists and move my hands but I couldn't feel a damn thing. Finally it came to me that my hands were tied and so tightly, they were numb. My ankles were tied too, but at least I had feeling in them.

What the hell?

I shook my head again trying to remember…oh yeah. The park, jogging, the lost dog guy and whoever had been behind me.

The memory sent my heart into overdrive, my body to trembling and with an almost sharp pain as I began to sweat. A whimper escaped as I wildly tried to see around me. But other than it being a small space with a cheap wooden door, the dark corners gave no other clues.

My mouth was dry but luckily uncovered. Licking my lips, I considered screaming or yelling but without more information, I was scared of who might respond and what their response might be.

Shit! I was shaking uncontrollably, my tank top sodden with sweat. I tried twisting my hands in an effort to get a sense of any slackness in my restraints but they were so numb and my shoulders so sore I couldn't feel if the movement helped or hindered.

Get a grip and think, Dallas!
But my brain was mush, which I was sure an aftereffect of my tazering.

The music changed to a different song without a pause in between.

I tried pulling my ankles apart but they were tied so closely together that my anklebones felt bruised. Instead, I lifted one heel and felt the rope, or whatever they'd used to secure me, move. Progress! Even if it was only in micro-millimeters.

The music again caught my attention but I couldn't tell why. It wasn't my style at all but I put it to good use as I did the toe-heel thing with my feet. I used the driving beat to keep time and felt the slightest shift, a tiny loosening in the confines of what held me. Plus the movement helped provide a small outlet for the adrenaline that was still rushing through my body.

My hair was sticking to my sweaty face, driving me crazy because I couldn't brush it away from my skin. Which was almost as irritating as the tunes being played so loud. How did I know that music? I knew I'd heard the songs before, more than a few times. But when and where?

I stopped the little dance routine I had going and wondered about the lack of a pause in between one number and the next. Somehow that bothered me too. On every music device I'd ever listened to there was a break of a few seconds between the tunes. But not with the stuff thumping from above.

Above? As in, I was in a basement or was it simply the ground floor of where ever I was?

New music came on and I went back to my little two-step although my calves were starting to burn.

My mind drifted to the guys in my crew, which I found strange. Tied up and stashed in some kind of closet shouldn't make someone think of their co-workers. But it didn't seem to be a random consideration so I let my thoughts go where they wanted. Danny, Cal, Jimmy. Nothing stuck when I saw them in my mind. Tony, Big Mark and Gene. Wait, Gene? Yeah, Gene and Rocky. And the music.

"What the hell are we listening to," I yelled, covering my ears. The rule in our truck was one crew member got to pick the music of the day on our ride to and from the jobsite. That day it had been Gene's turn.

"It's my Tomatoes playlist! Good ain't it?" The smile on Gene's face had a sly note to it.

"Tomatoes?"

"Yeah, the titty bar. This is the playlist from what they spin as the girls strip and work the poles," Rocky had taken up the slack of Gene's explanation.

"I wrote it down one night when the dancers weren't doing anything for me. Uploaded the songs when I got home. But I couldn't make one song bleed into the next like they do."

"Don't cha hate when that happens?" Big Mark had asked to the cab at large.

Jesus, I remembered thinking. And I thought I had no life.

Was I in the basement of a strip club?

Fucking bloody hell! Trey's mind wouldn't slow down enough so he could think clearly and he was so fucking angry he could roar.

Dallas nabbed by the fucking Ghosts! He couldn't even get his head to accept it.

He placed a call to Bishop before he and Donny left the park but got the internet guru's voicemail. Disconnecting without leaving a message, he immediately called Huff.

"Need emergency meeting of the council, brother. The Ghosts have my Dallas!" Snarling into the phone, he tried to listen to Huff's response but had a hard time over what his brain was screaming.

"Where you at? Silo was looking for you earlier."

"North of town. I'll be at the compound in fifteen to twenty. Need you to get our brothers together, Huff. Immediately!" He disconnected the call, fired up his hog and shot a grim nod to Donny.

While the ride back to Hellion land wasn't long, it was still long enough for Trey's brain to play the 'what-if' game again, with each scenario of his girl in Ghost's hands worse than the last. His face must've showed his displeasure because traffic moved out his way as soon as he was next to the other car's back bumper.

When he and his escort finally hit the forecourt, his men were waiting for him. Huff, Silo, Dare, Brand and Bishop were standing dead center and circled his bike before he even had shut it down.

"Went to Dallas who has taken up jogging. Goes to a park off Greenough. Was seen being put into a van by men who work vests like ours only gray." Trey tried to keep the emotion out of his voice but knew he failed miserably. "You said they were becoming more formal, Bishop. I want to know who holds the fucking gavel, and I want them on the phone AS-fucking-AP."

"Give me five," Bishop said, pulling out his cellphone as he ran towards the HC building.

"I also want a report from Snake, Dice and Jay on that fucking chop shop."

"I'll do," Dare said as he too pulled out his phone and walked away.

Trey saw Donny standing a respectful distance from the club's inner circle. "Donny? Good work today, brother. Proud you had my back."

The younger man lifted his chin and made his way into the clubhouse.

"I need someone to stay with the Sheridans who won't blab, won't hover but will spend time with them until we get Dallas back." Trey was thinking out loud but he knew the men would help the process along.

"Since he is behaving better and because they cannot come to him, perhaps their son would be a good choice," Brand offered. "We can send him with a recruit…"

"No, I need someone with more experience but not as scary as a biker. Drake's a good choice, though." Christ! His brain was like quicksand and he needed to fucking think!

"Have Carmi take the kid. Her tits and ass are reasonably covered today and she can be a bitch when cornered." Silo was pulling at his soul patch as he thought it out. "I'll give her the directive to call in every half hour and to keep the kid in line."

"Work it then," Trey agreed tersely. "Fill both her and Drake on what's doing but have them swear not to give the folks the news. Mrs. Sheridan has a weak heart."

Silo peeled away towards the back of the clubhouse.

"How many men do we have on the lists?" Trey asked, directing his eyes to Brand and Huff.

"Sixty or so," Huff said.

"When I did the call out the other night, I was able to get fifty on bikes within a half hour," Brand contributed.

"Good. We may need a show of strength." Trey unwound himself from his ride, finally feeling like he could take a breath and let his men work some of the burden. Sure Dallas was his but as his, she belonged to the Hellions full stop. Any move on her was a bald-face strike on the club.

The Hellions would goddamn retaliate in full fucking fury.

Trey turned towards the sound of running boots to see Bishop flying across the forecourt, his waist length hair coming loose from its holder. "The fucker's name is Emilio Rodriguez. Formerly with a group out of San Diego. Reputed to be real handy with a knife and likes to hire himself and his crew out for pay. Here's his number."

Wasting no time, Trey punched in the number and waited. "Rodriguez? Trey Jackson, Hellion. Heard you snatched something of mine from a park this morning. I want it back. Now!"

"Mr. Jackson. I have no immediate knowledge of any activity in a park nor of being in possession of Hellion property. The Ghosts have no quarrel with such a well known and respected club with whom we share a town. Perhaps you have been misinformed."

The asshole talked like a fucking panty-waist. What was the ass-wipe a fucking biker or a goddamn English teacher?