Damaged & Dangerous: The Sacred Hearts MC Book VI (12 page)

Red-XIII…

Dani drifted back from delivering the President and his
cabinet their booze, and she was a whiter shade of pale. I felt my heart drop
into my stomach but made no outward signs of it. I guess my fate was sealed. I
had no fucking idea how I was going to get out of this or what I was going to
do. Bandit was talking my fucking ear off as usual and I had to engage. I couldn’t
let these fuckers know I was onto the fact that they were on to
me
… I
swore to Christ if I got out of this I was beating every single one of
Grinder’s bros’ asses.

She moved, quiet and reserved, from behind the bar, and I
could see her trying to catch my eye. Finally there was enough of a lull in
attention on both me and her that I could meet her gaze. Her eyes were full of
pain and pleading and screamed at me
please, just go, just get away from
here!
But I couldn’t. Not only did I have to see this through for myself
and for my club, but I had to see this through for
her.
I’d made up my
mind as she’d slept in my arms that I wasn’t done saving Dani Broussard just
yet.

I tracked her out of the corner of my eye as she moved to
the end of the bar and spoke softly to Skid, who was well on his way to
drunkville. They exchanged words and with a final look in my direction, she
gathered her purse, keys, and jacket, and slipped out the door. It was written
all over her, in her tense posture. The girl was going to run. I felt a surge
of fierce pride and relaxed. There wasn’t anything I could do but let the
afternoon drag on into evening. I was getting antsy by the time evening was
dragging on into night. The more the minute hand crawled along the clock face,
the more hash marks the hour hand passed by, the more resigned I became about
my fate, the more hopeful I became about Dani’s.

No one was saying word fucking one about where we were
making the run to. Which direction we were going. Nothing. Not. A. Damn. Thing.
Which, by all accounts and the writing on the wall, spelled out only one thing
for me: I was a fucking dead man. I had nothing to pass D on where I was
headed. I had nothing at all to tell my club. Not even a fucking goodbye, which
was worthless anyways. I didn’t give up, I wouldn’t give up, until the bitter
fucking end. I was a Sacred Hearts Man and I was going to bleed my club colors-red,
white, and blue.

Pipes eventually made his appearance, “Flyer! Prospect!
Let’s roll,” he called, and I got up and stretched, racking my neck.

“It’s about fucking time, Man. I was getting bored,” I said,
and followed the two men out into the crisp night air. We started our bikes and
geared up to ride, all the while I had the feeling we were being watched.

I hoped it was my club and that they had eyes on me, but I
was pretty sure it was just wishful fucking thinking on my part.

“Where we headed?” I asked nonchalantly.

“Same fuckin’ direction I am, shut up and fall in,” Pipes
said. It wasn’t out of character for the dude. It was how he always was, so I
couldn’t say he was being intentionally obtuse.

We mounted up and rode out and as we rode, I enjoyed it. It
could be my final ride, after all. The wind in my face, the thrum of my bike underneath
me, the steady rumble of all those horses as we powered along the big slab. We
were headed up into the hills when a few cars moved on past us. I glanced at
just the right time and
holy fucking shit!
I had to pretend like I
didn’t see but yep, there was my clever girl.

What the fuck was she doing!?
I thought as we powered
up into the hills. I followed Pipes, Flyer to my right as we kept in formation.
I knew the jig was up when Pipes hit his signal and we turned into the
overlook. Fucking Gordy sitting on a picnic table smoking a cig, waiting for us.
We pulled off to the left into the overlook’s lot and I wondered briefly where
Dani was, shooting off a prayer to whatever power that was that she was safe
and would stay that way. I had to smile on the inside when I realized that I
hadn’t been paranoid or hopeful. We were being watched back at the club,
probably by one very curious and industrious Raccoon.

I didn’t look for her as we crunched across the gravel
towards Gordy. Instead I tried to play my part, “Hey Man, you comin’ with us?” I
asked the ‘Kings SAA. Gordy fell in next to me and put an arm across my
shoulders.

“We thought we’d have a little chat before you went runnin’
off,” he said jovially.

“Runnin’ off? What do you mean, Man?” His smile faded and he
squeezed me around my shoulders and shook me back and forth, putting me off
balance. He laughed, but it was forced, and I knew what was coming. I just
prayed he hadn’t made the body armor I had on under the bulk of my jacket and
cut.

“Did you really fucking think we wouldn’t figure it out?” he
asked.

I kept to my role, “Figure what out, Man?” I frowned and he
abruptly stomped on the back of my knee. It hurt but not too bad, but it wasn’t
meant to hurt necessarily, it was meant to take me down. To bring me to my
knees. Pipes and Flyer got a hold of my arms and I shouted.

“Fuck!” and struggled, but there wasn’t shit I could do
about it.

“Now let’s you and me have a little chat, Thirteen,” Gordy
said, and came around from the back of me, to where I could see him. A shiny
nickel-plated gun glinting in the weak moonlight.

“What the fuck, Man!? What’re you doing!? Is this some kind
of joke?” I cried.

“Awww! Cut the shit, Boy!” Gordy pointed the gun in my face
and I looked up at him. If I had any fucking chance of surviving this, I needed
to take any shots he fired to the chest and by the looks of the gun in his hand,
he needed to back up.

“What’s wrong? Nearsighted?” I asked with a smug look. Gordy
barked a laugh but he did what I needed him to do and began to put some
distance between us.

“So how long you been one of them?” he asked. I lifted a
shoulder in a shrug, which was only moderately effective with my arms held out
like they were by two dudes.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.

“Whew! Pig wasn’t lyin’ when he said you had a brass pair!
Look at you and the way yer lookin’ at me. Bet if I blow that horse dick of
yours off, you won’t look so fuckin’ smug. Would yah?” He aimed his gun at me
again and this time I really didn’t like where he was pointing it.

I struggled and almost got loose, score one for me. It was
Pipes who muttered a curse and said, “Gordy stop fuckin’ with him man! He ain’t
gonna tell us shit, but these Bleeding Heart assholes are slicker ‘n owl shit
and he might have ‘em out there right now. You heard Griz! They got at least
one sniper in their crew. Just fuckin’ do him and let’s get out of here!” There
was some real fear in his voice and I was betting dollars to pesos that he’d
gotten a firsthand look at whatever Archer, Rush and Nox had done to Ace and
Deuce. The fact that no-one that
had
seen it was talking about it, just
told me how bad it really was.

“Yeah. I get you,” Gordy said, which wasn’t at all what I
expected him to say. I’d fully expected him to tell Pipes to stop being such a
fucking pussy! Gordy took a few more steps away from me and by now he was a
decent bit of distance. I swallowed hard, my heart hammering hard, the
adrenaline flowing.

“It’s really too bad. I thought you were a badass dude and
that you’d be a good fit for us. Huh, oh well.” He lowered the gun and fired
three shots that I know of, but it was the first that punched me right in the
center of my chest, dead center in the ballistics plate I wore. Fucking
agony!
I felt a second thud into my shoulder and that one really fucking burned, I
think the third shot went wide. I tried to hold on, tried to stay conscious,
but honest to God, mercifully, I blacked the fuck out.

“Thirteen!”

I heard a female voice scream. I groaned and tried to push
myself to my feet, my vision was black and I opened my eyes… White hot
streamers of pain streaked the gravel in front of my face. I coughed and
groaned and then the stars where whirling crazy among the trees. I was on my
back and a fresh round of agony ripped through my chest. My hearing kept going
in and out of focus, I was in so much pain I couldn’t concentrate on a damned
thing. Whoever or whatever was touching me, shaking me,
hurting me
, blessedly
left me alone.

I lay on my back panting. Every breath ripped new agony
through my chest and my fucking shoulder
burned
but at the same time
felt like I had broken shards of glass being ground into it. I ached, my whole
fucking chest ached and I had a brief moment where I was totally cool with
dying as long as the fucking pain just stopped.

Light fell across my face and I put up my hand to ward it
off. Strong fingers, feminine hands, closed around my forearm and I heard a
woman’s voice, strong and high with panic.

“Come on, Thirteen! You have to help me, you’re too big! I
can’t lift you!” but she was trying and I would give anything, anything at all
for her to fucking
stop.
I heaved myself to my feet and she got under my
uninjured arm. The light was coming from her car. She got me into the passenger
seat, I don’t even know how. All I knew was that there was this fucking angel
from God and that she was helping me. The door slammed shut, the light went out,
and I think I went out with it.

Dani…

I was terrified. He was bleeding and I couldn’t see how badly,
and I didn’t dare stop to look. I knew where the Sacred Hearts club house was
and as I drove, I couldn’t help but fear I would be too late. It was at least
an hour, hour and a half back the way we’d come and over the county line. I
wanted to speed but I didn’t dare. If I were pulled over with a bleeding man
who’d been shot in my passenger seat, they would search the car and find the
stolen jewelry. And with Thirteen an obvious biker, they would blame him, and
then it would be all my fault, and this was such a mess! I drove five miles an
hour above the speed limit, jumping at shadows all the while.

I felt a triumphant surge when I saw two riders coming in
our direction, a tow truck behind them. I laid on the horn and they startled,
gunning their engines past my car and continuing on their way, and I let out an
inarticulate, frustrated scream, pounding my steering wheel.

“Just hold on, okay Thirteen? We’re almost there.” He didn’t
answer me, he was unconscious, and that just made the tears flow faster. I
counted the mile markers and watched for mile marker fifty-eight. From
everything I’d heard, the club house was about a quarter of the way between
mile marker fifty-eight and fifty-nine, on the left. There! I pulled into the
turn lane and onto the inclined drive, braking hard in front of the heavy iron
gates barring my path.

No!
I’d come all this way! Not to be deterred, I
opened my door, jumped out, and laid on the horn. I screamed, I yelled, I cried
and looked wildly for a solution. I finally spotted it, perched high on a pole
to one side of the gate. A camera. I jumped up and down, waving my arms wildly
all the while the tears poured down my face. I must have looked like a wild
crazy woman and right now I
was
! I would do anything to get Thirteen the
help he needed and if they didn’t open the damned gate then I
would
call
the police. Except I didn’t have a phone!

“Pleeeease!” I screamed and bent at the waist, sobbing. The
gate kicked to life and began rolling aside and I straightened. I didn’t waste
any time but jumped back in the car and pulled through in a spray of gravel, up
into The Sacred Hearts’ club house driveway. For me, into the belly of the
beast.

I skidded to a stop in front of the club’s front door and
jumped out to men pouring from the front door, guns drawn and pointing at me
and my car. I didn’t care, I threw myself around the back of my car and
wrenched open the passenger door, all the while screaming at them.

“Help me! Help! It’s Thirteen! They shot him! I hid and I
saw and they shot him!”

“Slow the fuck down, Bitch! What the fuck are you saying?” I
looked up and behind the man giving me a dark look was the doctor from my
apartment. I nearly caved with relief.

“Doctor, help! Doctor, help me, please!
Please!”
I
cried, he came striding around the front of my car where I tried to get
Thirteen to help me again.

“Doc, wait, Man, we don’t know who this –“

“Aww hell! Fucking shut up and help me! It’s R.T.!” the
doctor yelled, and I was suddenly swamped by a whole lot of men in a whole lot
of black leather. A big, huge man with blonde hair in a braid moved me aside
and the man who’d snarled at me first grabbed me by the arm. I went with him,
moving aside, getting out of the way of the men who were trying to help
Thirteen.

We went into the club, Thirteen carried limp between the big
blonde man and a Mexican man. The doctor yelled to a tall, young, and skinny
brother with lots of tattoos, “Disney! Get my bag and come help me,” he then
turned his attention, “Take him to his room,” he told the other two and they
obeyed immediately. I went to go with them, to go with Thirteen, but I was
savagely pulled back against the snapping man’s chest.

“Whoa! Where do you think you’re going, Sweetheart?” he
demanded, and swung me around hard, slamming me face down onto a table. I was
bent at the waist, one of the chairs digging painfully into my stomach when
another man wrenched my hands behind my back and began to tie them. I collapsed
into sobs and tried to wrestle my way free, but there were three of them now.
One held me down, the other tying my wrists, and the last patting me down.

“Nox, let her up,” one of them said. One of my arms was
pulled free and they jerked my purse away from me. I was shoved down again and
my wrists were retied. I struggled and screamed and fought, but there wasn’t
any way I was getting free. I knew that, deep in my heart, but I was so damned
tired of being manhandled and mistreated and I just so desperately wanted to
get to Thirteen, to know he was being cared for, to know if he was
alive
.

“Knock it off, Sweetheart! You ain’t going anywhere,” one of
the men grated, and I kicked out with my foot and met shin. He cursed and, with
my hands firmly tied behind my back, I was wrenched up by my arms, my shoulders
painfully jerking in their sockets and protesting the unfamiliar strain. I was
carried, hissing, spitting, screaming and crying, between two of them while the
third followed us through the club. I didn’t make it easy for them but I was
outmatched, by, like, a lot.

They carried me outside and across grass to another
building. I almost got away once, getting one arm free from one of my
assailants, the one on my left crushed down harder with his grip on my other arm
and cursed at the one on my right, “Fucking hold her, Rush!”

The third man opened the door at the one end of the building
and held it for the two to carry me through. We passed through a narrow
hallway, doors to either side, before the third man, Nox as the nameless man
had called him, opened one of them. The two thrust me into the empty room and I
stumbled, falling to my knees. With dark looks from all three, like they were
the Devil’s own, they swung the door shut. I screamed in rage and anger and
sorrow, and threw myself against it. I kept screaming, long and loud, and kept
throwing myself at the door until I just didn’t have any fight left in me.

An hour passed, one of the longest of my life. I had finally
settled in the middle of the room on my knees, bowed forward over them, my
forehead to the floor. It was the only way I could get comfortable. My hair hid
my face, not that it made much difference. The room had no lights, no nothing…
not a stick of furniture. The carpet was that mat kind, super low to the ground
and might as well not be called carpet at all. The kind you found in office
buildings, easy to vacuum or whatever.

My face was hot and tight from crying so damned much and I
didn’t care. I was miserable. I was scared for Thirteen and I hadn’t seen a
soul since they’d thrown me in here. Every once in a while I heard low voices
on the other side of the door, but they were indistinct, low and muffled by the
walls and the door. I couldn’t understand what they were saying. My hands were
cold, my shoulders stiff from the unnatural angle my bonds pulled them into, and
I was just incredibly drained from everything. Physically, emotionally,
mentally drained.

The door opened and I looked up through a curtain of my
hair. The man was slender, with short, light brown hair and grey eyes. He
frowned down at me. I glanced at the name flash on his cut. ‘Blue’. He had a
small bottle of water in his hand and he stepped into the room. The door was
pulled shut behind him by the third man, who had long brown hair in a ponytail
and a five o’clock shadow along his jaw. He gave me the dirtiest look before
closing the door behind Blue, who knelt down in front of me. I looked away from
him.

His hand cupped my chin and I stiffened. He tugged on my
face, gently but insistently, and just waited me out until I complied and
looked up at him. He set the water down and with the one hand under my chin,
smoothed my hair out of my face with the other. It took a few seconds with as
wild and as much hair as I had, and I took the time to study his face.

He had a slight furrow between his brows and his eyes held a
tension around them. The cool gray depths spoke -as loudly as his voice was
silent- that he didn’t like what was happening to me, that he didn’t like what
he was seeing. I stilled and let him move my hair, I didn’t try to bite him or
beg him for anything; instead I waited to see what he was here for, to see what
he was going to do…

He lifted the bottle of water and cracked the seal in front
of me. I was suddenly dying of thirst, my mouth dry and full of cotton from
screaming, my lips cracked from the salt of my tears. He put his hand gently
under my chin and placed the mouth of the bottle to my lips and helped me take
a sip. It was cool and refreshing and slid down my throat, soothing the
rawness. I can’t remember the last time a drink of water tasted so pure and so
sweet.

He stopped for me to catch my breath and I asked him, “Is
Thirteen okay? Is he alright?” I begged and pleaded with my eyes for him to
tell me something,
anything
about Thirteen’s wellbeing. He frowned and
looked torn, and finally put his finger to his lips in the classic sign for
hush, before, with a glance over his shoulder at the closed door, he turned to
me and nodded. Relief exploded through my chest and tears of relief flooded my
eyes and slipped down my face.

Thank you.
I mouthed and he nodded, and helped me
finish the little midget bottle of water. He stood in one fluid motion and
knocked on the door. The same man opened it and glared at me, giving me a
tempestuous look that screamed
I want to hurt you.

“I’ve already been through hell! So give it your best shot.
Not only will I survive, I’ll win!” I snarled at him. I don’t think he was
expecting that, because his expression went from mean-mugging me to surprised,
his eyebrows meeting his hairline. He looked at me and his face smoothed out
into lines of careful consideration, to an expression of thoughtfulness. I spit
at him and he closed the door with a soft thunk. I bowed my forehead back to
the floor.

Thirteen was okay.
I sighed out. If Thirteen was okay
then my work here was done. They could do whatever they wanted to do to me. I’d
gone above and beyond the call of duty and I was tired. Thirteen had saved me
and I had saved him back. Everything else was just window dressing. As I knelt
on the hard floor, my feet and legs gone numb, my hands gone numb, too, I
wondered what would happen to me.

Would they rape me, or just kill me? When they killed me,
would they draw it out? I suppose I should be grateful the demon from the lake
run was dead. By the looks of him, he would have drawn it out, made it painful.
I knew that he’d liked knives and, from all the blood on him that night, I bet
he had made Sparks’ death long and slow. There wasn’t any doubt in my mind that
they’d killed him and I was grateful to them for that. He’d deserved to die.

I wondered if I was going to meet the same fate. I mean, I
had turned on my club and there were some things in the MC world, I’d learned,
that were unforgivable sins across the board. Turning on your club was one of
those things. I mean, if I were capable of turning on their enemy then I was
capable of turning on them later down the line, and so it really only made
sense to kill me. To make sure that wouldn’t ever happen.

The door opened and I looked up through my hair again, which
had fallen back in my face. The blonde giant that had carried Thirteen into the
clubhouse had opened the door and another man stood in the doorway in front of
him. He wore a zip-up hooded sweatshirt, his hands buried deep in the pockets.
I couldn’t see anything but his mouth and chin, the hood obscuring the top half
of his face. That, and it was still dark outside, and so by default, it was
dark in here too. I swallowed hard and tasted the bitter tang of fear. I guess
it was time, then.

“Oh, now that’s nice,” the man in the hoodie said and he
sounded genuine, not a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

“Reave, don’t fuck with her,” the big blonde warned. The man
pulled back his hood and it stole my breath, I hissed and stiffened up and his
lips curved up into this feral grin. He pulled his other hand from his pocket
and stepped toward me, flicking the switch on his knife. He knelt down next to
me and I closed my eyes.

The demon wasn’t dead, somehow he was alive, and I was going
to die. I felt my shoulders ease as I accepted that this was the end of the
line. I just didn’t have any more fight left in me at this point. I just
didn’t. He touched my shoulder and ran his hand lightly down my arm to my cold
and numb fingers. He massaged my hands with one of his warmer ones and I
figured he was trying to figure out where to make his first cut. I waited for
the kiss of his blade, for the sting, for the blood to start flowing, when
whatever bound my wrists gave way.

The big man was suddenly there, arm curving beneath me
across my chest, helping me to sit up. My shoulders cried out in agony, stiff
and angry at suddenly having to move as I brought my hands from around my back.
I met the wintery, sky blue eyes of the demon, who was smoothing the forelock
of his hair down against his forehead. He crooked a smile at me.

“You remind me of my wife,” he said and I blinked.
This
thing had a wife!?

“Who would marry a monster like you?” I blurted, and he gave
me a sad little smile.

“You don’t know me, so I’m going to let that slide. Mad
respect, though, most people aren’t brave enough to call me a monster to my
face.” His eyes were cold and distant, and I fought not to show any trace of
fear.

“It’s not bravery,” I told him and the big blonde sighed.

“You okay?” he asked me. I looked at him next. He was their
Sergeant-at-Arms, his name flash read
Trigger.

“It doesn’t matter,” I told him truthfully, which made him
frown, “Is
Thirteen
okay?” his eyebrows went up in surprise.