Outlaw Road (A MC Romance) (20 page)

Slowly but surely, a righteous anger was building in me. “Well, I'm in the area, figure I'll swing by, knock on their door and say hi.”

“You've never had a head for club politics, Connor. What's her name?” Poet was right. He was always the man with the plan, not me. The big picture was never something I had the patience to deal with. I've always been more of a soldier.

I chuckled and hung my head. “Flora,” I said. No point playing coy. I wasn't in the MC anymore, he couldn't tell me not to go.

“You're a sucker for lost causes, but this... She must be something special, huh?”

Staring at myself in the mirror, I saw my helpless grin. “I guess so.”

After another long pause, Remy added, “I'm sure Star would love to meet the woman that could tame you. You got a plan?”

A plan?

I turned the ignition. The dump truck roared to life like an awakened, vengeful god. Although the sound was muted by the windows being rolled up, the fury of power in the machine was undeniable. When I gave the beast some gas, it felt like I was driving a landslide.

Subtlety is overrated
, I thought, smashing through the gate.

Hang on, you silly girl, the cavalry’s coming.

“Nope,” I laughed. “But I'm going to make a hell of a lot of noise.”

Flora

––––––––

T
he sun was high in the sky when I rolled up Brentwood. Knowing how close I was, my hands began sweating on the bike handles. After all this time, and all this torture, I'd finally made it.

This was where my sister was being held.

The humidity weighed me down. How could it be so warm in
October?
Bugs were chirping, not caring it wasn't night time. I'd noticed the grasses growing taller, thicker, the closer I got the the crossroads. Here, with my destination cresting in the distance, the Everglades were in full bloom.

They surrounded the area, choking everything in their path. They almost blocked me from my first glimpse of where Claudine was. The place that was apparently called, 'The Palace.'

Stopping the motorcycle, I gaped at the house.

No.

Not a house.

A fucking
mansion.

Is this for real?
Baffled, I hopped off of the bike. In my mind, I'd imagined an awful, broken down warehouse. Or maybe just something more filthy. This building was gorgeous, it reminded me of the plantation style houses I'd see in real estate magazines, but never in person. Even on the drive here, Ronin and I had seen nothing as grand as this.

Guiding the bike into the grass, I tucked it away. Driving up onto the front lawn was reckless, and I'd come too far to make any mistakes. Hiding the vehicle would help insure our get away, as well. I was intent on not messing Claudine's jail-break up.

Slinking through the sharp green blades, I approached the house warily.

Towards the front porch, I could hear the telltale voices of men laughing. Craning my neck, I counted five of them, all hanging out and either smoking or talking. On their chests were vests, and though I couldn't read the patches, I knew by now who they were.

The Knights.

Their weapons glinted in the sun, hanging off their shoulders on straps. I didn't know the brand of gun, but they looked like they'd tear a truck into pieces.

If they saw me, there'd be nothing left of my body when they were done.

Nibbling my thumbnail, I considered the outside of the mansion. If they were guarding the front door, how was I going to get inside? Fighting them was stupid, I'd never stand a chance.
I need an opening, I need...

There, chest level along one long stretch of siding, was a window.

Darting another nervous look at the men, I began to breathe faster. Could I make it? The distance between me and the mansion was big enough that the guards would have plenty of time to see me approaching.

I wished it was night time. But I couldn't wait till it got dark, that would be hours away. What if
more
men showed up?

Just move slow. They're watching the road, not over here.
It was true; I'd slipped up on the side closest to the water, and the bikers were clearly keeping an eye out for big vehicles, not small, sneaky people like me.

Crouching, I scampered over the yard. Each step I took drove nails into my blood. I expected the men to turn my way, to hear my pounding heart from where they were.

Pressing against the white paint, I took a rattling breath. My adrenaline was at full blast, my shirt sticking to my flushed skin.
I did it!
They hadn't seen me.

Reaching up, I tested the windowsill, expecting it to be locked. Things had been too easy. Surely that would change?

Don't jinx yourself.

The window cracked open, and I bit back a surprised laugh. With a final glance around, I leaned on my toes, peering into the mansion. I could see a long hallway, oil paintings and reddish walls, but no patrolling bikers.

Deciding this was my lucky break, I scrambled over the edge. Inside, the mansion was oddly quiet. The gentle, mechanical whirl of air conditioning whispered through the air like a lost spirit. Someone was paying a lot of money to cool a gigantic building like this.

Creeping along the carpet, my hand on my gun, I listened for any tiny noise. My own breathing kept me on edge, the loudest sound in the place. As I walked along, peering back over my shoulder a million times, I saw a few doors waiting ahead.

Cracking one, I made enough space for just my eye. Inside it was dim, but even with the shadows, I could see the shapes of two people on a bed. The springs squealed, an insistent, obscene racket they told me they were having sex.

To my left, a man hunched over a desk. In one wet snort, he sucked up a line of white powder.

With my stomach coiling into a small tangle, I backed away, returning to my search.

Most of the rooms were empty, as if there was a party happening somewhere else.
Or, like the owners are all on vacation.
That wasn't a good thought. Though I'd seen guards outside, maybe I
was
too late. Maybe Claudine and the other women had been shipped off.

Defeat absorbed into me, battling with my nerves. Staying upbeat was a challenge, the ever present silence slicing into my sanity. On and on, I peered behind doors, occasionally encountering a lock. Soon, every room in the hall was stuck, not yielding to my tugs.

Every room...

But one.

Under my palm, the knob twisted. I jerked, actually shocked after the endless row of stuck ones. This door sat near the end of the hall, before the passage took a hard turn to who knew where.

Licking my lips, I shivered, reaching out to push on the wood. I expected to find more seedy activity, because so far, that was all this mansion had presented me with.

Tall ceilings hung with sparkling chandeliers. It was wide, spacious; a kind of ball room, except this place was far more devious. Instead of dancers, several half-naked girls waited for me. Some were lying down, others propped against the walls limply. There were multiple tables, gorgeous old wood that was now covered in a plethora of white gold.

Cocaine.

But the selection didn't end there.

Needles, rubber tubes, lighters and other items littered the place. It was a juxtaposition of classy, old money and the contents of forgotten alleys. I'd never seen a drug den so well stocked, or so decorated.

And then I saw her.

Her back was to me, her profile aimed at the distant wall, like she was seeing something that wasn't there. Long, tangled hair slid over her shoulders, the short dress she wore exposing her skinny, pale arms.

This was a woman who fit in with the other drug-infected lot. When pasted among the rest, she wouldn't have stood out. A lost girl from a time filled with laughter, long bike rides, and old promises.

A forgotten girl.

But nothing could ever make me forget her.

“Claudine,” I whispered.

The woman jerked around, her eyes so deep in her head they could have been stone wells. Her skull was starting to show through her cheekbones. Stress, and—by the looks of the stash sprawling around—drugs, had not been kind to my sister.

I was too overwhelmed to care.

Heat pushed at the back of my eyeballs. Stepping forward, I covered my mouth, willing myself not to start crying like a sloppy mess. But this was her, she was
right here.
My plan for escape was a distant, nagging itch. I just wanted to touch her.

I needed her to be real.

She hadn't moved, her eyes searching mine in an almost feral way. Then, slowly, she straightened up. Her voice cracked, hollow with doubt. “Flora? Am I seeing things?”

“No,” I sobbed, wiping at my eyes. Smiling helplessly, I closed the gap, crushing her in a hug. She was taller than me, but she felt so much smaller. “Claudine, god, I can't believe it!”

I'd done it. I'd really found her.

Her fingers came down, gently prying me away. “What are you doing here?” she hissed, looking around at the other girls. Some were watching, most didn't lift their heads.

“I'm saving you!” Scrubbing at my cheek, I backed away. “Come on, we need to get out of here. I came in through a window in the hall, no one was even watching.”

She stayed where she was. She could have been a statue. “You need to go.”

A flicker of uncertainty wormed into my core. My smiled was strained. “Claudine, come on. If we don't go now, I'm not sure—”

“Not sure you'll escape?”

The voice came from behind me. Spinning, I yanked my gun free, aiming it unsteadily at the three men in the doorway. The man who had spoken could have blocked it himself.

He was bloated, stomach stretching out the button-down, baby blue shirt that dipped over his belt. A stiff, white jacket hung open, his hands buried in the pockets.

His grin told me, quite blatantly, that I was fucked.

“Stay there!” I shouted, training the pistol on each of them. Who did I choose? Who was the most dangerous?

Sighing sympathetically, the plump man started to move his right arm.

“Don't!” I snapped.

He paused, then kept going, his lips making a soothing sound—as if I were a wild animal. “Easy there, it's just a rag.” Tugging the handkerchief out, he mopped at his temple. “Gets mighty hot out here in the Glades, even with the air conditioning. You're sweating too, dear girl. Why don't you sit down and relax?”

I slid my heel backwards, hissing at Claudine. “Is there another way out?”

My sister said nothing. In front of me, the men were smiling.

“Claudine, is there another way!?” I demanded.

“Yes Claudine,” the fat man chuckled. “Tell our friend how unwanted guests leave.”

This wasn't how this was supposed to go down. My panic was kicking in, nerves crackling. Did I have to shoot them?

Finally, my sister spoke. “Flora, stop. You can't win.”

“Flora,” the man repeated. “Oh, that's a pretty name. Do you know her, Claudine?”

I was too terrified to take my eyes off of the men. “Claudine... please... tell me what to do,” I whispered.

She lifted her voice, begging. “Tully, please. Don't hurt her.”

Tully, so that's his name.

“If she drops the gun, I won't,” he said.

“I'm not dropping the gun! We're getting out of here! Move out of our way!”

No one even twitched.

Tully puffed up, mopping his face again. “Claudine, this is getting old. If she doesn't drop the gun, I'm having the boys fill her with holes. The gators can finish the rest.”

Gators?
My eyes went wide, and he must have noticed, because he laughed.

“Oh yes,” Tully said, eyebrows lowering. “You asked how you were getting out of here. One of your options involves the stomach of our little water friends.”

I didn't want to ask what the other options were. Bracing myself, I fixed the pistol on Tully. Instantly, the other men had their weapons on me. I hadn't noticed them pulling them free. It felt like every molecule in the air was weighing me down, slowing me to the point of sluggishness.

But I had to do something.

I had to—

Arms circled my throat, hands grappling for my gun from behind. I gasped, not ready for the sudden attack. “Claudine!” I choked, the crook of her elbow on my jugular. As frail as she looked, she was strong, and she had leverage.

Blackness blotted my vision, my fingers clinging to the gun.
No, not like this! I can't let it end like this!
I prayed to anyone that would listen. I cursed the way of the world. I hoped for a damn miracle.

It wasn't enough.

Stumbling to my knees, I let the weapon go. Everyone was on me at once, thicker hands snatching my wrists, lifting me to my feet. One of the other biker's had my arms, pinning them to my spine. He was yanking my shoulders painfully, but I didn't care.

Focusing on my sister, I tried to understand. “Why?” I whispered, my world a pinpoint that saw only her. “How could you?”

Regret swam over her sharp features. She didn't speak, she simply turned to Tully and handed him my gun—Ronin's gun. He chuckled warmly, petting her head before eyeballing me. “That was unwise of you, girl. Did you really expect her to side with you, over me? After everything I've given her?”

I couldn't break my stare. Silently, I willed Claudine to do something. Attack the man, grab a gun, jump forward and save me. Just anything.

Anything.

She ducked her head, unable to meet my eyes.

Tully grabbed her arm, stroking down the inside until he hit her wrist. This let me see the ruined, red lines crossing her fish-belly white skin. Either other people had been shooting her up, or she'd stopped caring who saw the proof of her addiction and done it herself. I was unsettled, seeing such an intimate display between him—the man I was quickly realizing was in charge—and my sister.

Patting the back of her hand, Tully smiled at me. “Now that things are settled, who
are
you?”

Claudine, why...
I ripped at the strong fingers holding me, but it was useless.