The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 3 (MC Chronicles #3) (20 page)

On the other end of the line, I hear wind brush over the receiver and Deke’s heavy breath, like he’s walking fast. The sound of doors closing ceases the wind sounds and rock music replaces it.

“Deke,” I call, wanting to make sure that he understands the rules. Something covers the phone, and all I hear is a series of muffled exchanges. He’s gotta be at the clubhouse talking to somebody.

After a moment, he returns with his voice a few octaves firmly lower. “I’m sorry, Babe, but what we do or don’t do with this Malcolm or your mother is not up to you.”

The hell it ain’t.

“Fine,” I cross my free arm over my chest with indignation. “If you don’t give him safe passage, I’m not coming home,” I huff.

There is no way in hell Malcolm is going to bring me this far only to get beat the fuck up. That’s not happenin’. If the brothers think he’d bring me there knowing they aren’t giving him a pass, they’re idiots. Nobody is gonna willingly hand themselves over to a bunch of roughneck bikers, unless of course they are women looking to get some dick. In this instance, you’d have to be insane to show up at a Sacred Sinners compound without a truce.

“What?!” Deke yells before the phone is torn from him and Gunz’s sweet voice fills the receiver. “Hey, Baby Doll. Come home and we’ll work it out once ya get here,” he soothes misleadingly. He must think I’m dumber than a motherfucking ho handle, if he thinks I’m buyin’ what he’s sellin’. He’s full of shit. I’d be lucky to get Malcolm through the gate before they gunned him down.

Fuck this!
I hang up on Gunz and turn the phone off before I turn to Malcolm with a sad smile.

“They’re still gonna kill me, aren’t they?” He doesn’t sound surprised.

“Yes,” I nod solemnly. “But not if I can help it. Now pull over at the next exit and find some woods with a dirt road that we can park in for a bit to get off the road. I gotta make a call.”

Promptly, he obeys without question. He must trust me, which is good. He should.

Once we’re off the main road and Malcolm has driven the van partway up a hunter’s path in the middle of a woodsy area, I roll down my window. The fresh air is an immediately relief. Malcolm shuts off the van, killing the lights, and we are consumed by darkness, lit by the faintest streams of light glittering through the budding trees from the moon and stars on this clear evening.

“Now what?” he probes.

“Now I call the boss.”

“Richard?”

“Yes, he’s the most hardheaded, unrelenting man I know. But what he says goes, and maybe I can convince his stubborn ass to trust his woman.”

Malcolm accepts my explanation with a single nod that I can barely see, reclines his seat back, and threads his hands behind his head in a relaxed spread-eagle position as he sighs, settling in.

Making quick work of it, I turn on the phone, dial Big’s number, and place the cell to my ear as I perch my elbow on the open window ledge, using it as leverage to hold the phone against my head.

Big answers on the first ring, “Sugar Tits?” He sounds relieved.

“Big.” A sweep of my own sweet relief washes through me at the sound of his voice. Damn I missed him.

“Please tell me you’re on your way home,” he states, obviously already having talked to Gunz.

“I was…” I trail off knowing damn well this isn’t what he is going to want to hear. Not that I can blame him, but I’m on a mission.

He growls, “What the hell do you mean you
was
?”

Tilting my head back, I close my eyes. “I called Deke and told him Malcom was bringin’ me home. I wanted to be assured y’all weren’t gonna hurt him when he did.”

Big scoffs a snide humorless laugh, “That motherfucker kidnapped you, and now you’re defending him? What’s he got - a gun to your head or a hand in your pants?” he snaps.

Hold the fuck up!? He did not just go there! Did he? He did, didn’t he? He just fucking went there!? Oh my God, he’s so damn lucky I’m not there to kill his stupid ass!

“What!?” I screech.

“You heard me. Why you defendin’ a kidnapping drug dealer, eh? Does he eat pussy that good? Is that why?”

What. The. Fuck?

“Did you seriously just say that shit to me? Of all the things to ask me about… like how I’m doin’? Is your daughter alright? Am I whole? The first fucking thing you ask me is if he’s good with his mouth!?” I can feel my blood pressure rising, as I grip the phone harder, picturing it as Big’s throat. What a bastard! Why… why would anyone say that right now? Leave it to Big to up the ante of being a complete and utter pain in my motherfucking ass! Gah! Why do I love this man!? I have no damn clue. And I thought I missed him.

Huffing with fury, I continue. “Have you lost your goddamn mind!?” I yell.

“Yes!” he growls back. “I have! My old lady gets taken under my brothers watch. I haven’t slept since I got the call you were missin’, and I’ve been out of my fucking mind! Then that stupid cunt calls Brew tellin’ us she has you, which I kinda already figured. But fuck, Sugar Tits, I didn’t know if she’d beat you, killed you, had ya raped, or what. All I could do was ride to get the hell home and wait. Wait to know what the hell Lindy Sue was up to. Wait to make sure you and my fucking daughter are alright. Wait! Wait! Wait! That’s all I could do!!” he roars full of emotion, breathing erratically. “Now I finally hear your sweet voice, and you wanna help out this douchebag. I gotta know why!”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I will the tears that are welling to go away. It doesn’t work as they start to drip down my cheeks, and I swipe them away with the back of my hand. Swallowing hard, I reel in my crazy emotions. Big missed me. He really was fucking worried. I knew he would be, but the way he’s breathing and the way his voice is cracking with every word is killing me. My heart aches from our distance. I just want to be home. I want to lie in bed, curl up in his arms, and forget everything that’s happened the past week. No more Lindy Sue, no dick sucking, no two week run. I want my fucking life back to normal. Is the so much to ask?

“Bink,” Big says calmly.

“Yeah?” I pout.

“You okay?”

I nod and pout my bottom lip even though he can’t see me, “Yes.”

“Ya sure, babe? I just need ya to be okay. That’s all that matters. This run is fucked now. Pointless. But none of that matters as long as you’re whole. Yeah?” His voice is like smooth dark chocolate. Delicious, addicting, and soaked with love.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“I love you, Sugar Tits. We’re on our way home now.”

His sweet words take my breath away. He really does love me, doesn’t he? Underneath all the secrets and fuck ups, he really does love me. I don’t think until this very moment sitting in this van, eyes closed, tears spilling down my cheeks, my lip quivering, and our daughter moving in my belly, did I really understand the weight of how much I love him too. How much he means to me. We use our anger and our sarcasm to hide our centers and to shield ourselves from pain. I know I do at least, and I suspect he does it for the same reason. We’re so much alike sometimes it’s hard to fathom.

I can taste the words on the tip of my tongue and want to express those words to him. To really tell him how I feel, but I can’t. Not until we are reunited and our lives are put back together. Where there are no more secrets, no more half-truths, where we can be just us with nothing holding us back from our future.

To steer myself away from my rampant emotions, I wipe my tears away as I listen to him speak to someone there. When he’s done, I ask, “Who’s coming home?”

“All of us. I told the brothers to finish what we needed to get locked down with this new club that wants to patch over. But they aren’t fuckin’ listening. All of ‘em are with me except Blimp who’s taken over delegation duties till we can get that shit taken care of. We’ve already put a call out to all the other chapters, puttin’ ‘em on standby just in case we need ‘em, which includes the new one,” he explains, all business.

I open my eyes and stare out the side window. “Tell them to stand down. If you’d just calm down, I can tell you everything,” I try to reason with him even though my hopes for that happening is slim.

“You need to get home right fucking now,” heavy desperation clings to his words. “Now. You hear me? Get home. I need
you to get the hell home. I need our daughter home. Goddammit, Sugar Tits, you…,” his voice cracks with emotion. He coughs, “Fuck… I thought….”

“I’m fine, honey,” I soothe. “I’m not injured, and I wasn’t hurt. Once Malcolm realized what my mother was doin’, by setting him and y’all up and using me as ransom, he tried to right his wrong.”

“How?” Big questions.

“How what?”

“How’d he take care of it?” he clarifies sharply.

“He knocked her out and tied her to a chair.”

“I’ll give them the cabin’s location,” Malcolm offers softly beside me, just as the second line on the phone beeps, alerting me of a call. I check the phone’s ID. It’s Gunz. I hit ignore.

“He said he’ll give the cabin’s location, so you can handle her yourself,” I explain while the roar of motorcycles fill the receiver. I grin at the sound, longing for them to be here, not hundreds of miles away.

“We’ve got another day of ridin’ before I’m gonna be home. I’m not pardoning Malcolm over the phone. But I’ll put a call into Gunz to have him locked up and put on watch till we get back. That’s the best I can do for ya. I am doin’ it for you,” Big emphasizes.

“Are they gonna be nice and keep their hands to themselves?” I have to ask this because I know for certain some of the brothers can get a little creative with their punishments. I’ve seen it more times than I can count.

“If I was kidnapped and some drug dealer cunt brought me home, would you be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

Touché. He’s got a point, but I’m not caving. It’s my way or no way. “Then I guess I’ll see ya whenever then. ‘Cause I’m not feedin’ him to the wolves.” What kinda person would I be if I did? Would you?

“Goddammit!” he roars, and I yank the phone away from my ear to keep from going deaf. If he’s not careful, he’s gonna cross over into his beast state. He’s flirting with that line with how much he’s been up and down with his emotions. I wait a few moments until his yelling has tamed to a dull growl before I place the phone back to my ear.

“Fine,” he huffs. “I’ll call ‘em off, but you and Malcolm need to understand that he will either die or get beaten for this. There is no way he’s gonna walk away clean. He has a debt to pay, whether it be his life or by my hand, justice will be served and that’s concrete, Sugar Tits. There ain’t no negotiations. Ya got me?”

Oh I get him alright; he’s crystal fucking clear. Part of me understands and sides with his hardened rules. My other side, the softer more emotional side that has been elevated by these potent pregnancy hormones, hates his rules. Yes, I agree he shouldn’t have kidnapped me or anyone for that matter. However, Malcolm has been a perfect doting gentleman since it all began. I’m choosing to cling to that, and the fact that he knocked my mother out and tied her to a chair. Just the thought of her incapacitated and probably out of her mind right now makes me want to tap my fingers together and cackle like the devil himself. So… to cut to the damn chase, I’m on Malcolm’s side, the side of redemption and not persecution. Although many times, they are one in the same.

Not liking Big’s attitude, I blurt, “That’s fine, but you have a helluva lot to answer for yourself. And I’ll expect justice for that as well.”

If Malcolm has to be punished for his sins, Big will also be served justice. President or not he is my old man. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I fucking said it. Well he is, isn’t he? So that means him not telling me about my sister and all that shit about my mother deserves its own form of justice. Right?

“What the hell does that mean?” he snaps.

“We’ll talk about it when we’re both home,” I reply calmly, trying to keep a handle on this conversation before it gets thrown off course again, and he does pass into his bestial state. I can’t leave him with the brothers in that condition.

“Fine,” he growls curtly. “I’ll make the call to Gunz. I gotta roll out with the boys, and you’ve gotta get home.”

A few more tense words are exchanged, and I’m rolling my window up as we say our goodbyes. I turn to Malcolm, “We’re good to go, no worries. I got your back,” I reassure him.

Soon we are silently backing down the dirt road and headed toward the highway. Minutes pass as the GPS lady barks directions, and in what feels like warp speed, we are pulling up to the compound. The gate is already open, ready for our impending arrival so we roll straight through. Nervously, I hold on tight to the door handle, as my heart thumps erratically in my chest, and I keep a sharp lookout over the front of the clubhouse for any funny business. The massive spotlights mounted on the clubhouse’s roof, which are only used for emergencies, have been turned on. They’re blinding, impairing my vision as we pull forward. I’m forced to use my hand to shield my eyes, as they water and squint trying to focus. It seems impossible.

Just as the van idles the last few feet into the gate, the gate rolls closed locking us inside. Malcolm turns to me in fear. “It’s just a precaution,” I explain, trying to sound convincing. It doesn’t do a damn thing to calm him though as his face quickly morphs from fear to sheer terror and his hands begin to tremble holding tightly onto the steering wheel.