Bounty: Fury Riders MC (42 page)

Chapter 27

Amy has tears in her eyes. I’ve told her everything, every last detail. Most of the time, my eyes have been on my coffee cup. Some of the memories are still pretty raw, pretty painful. Like that last night. The last time he hit me. The time I decided was the last time.

“I can’t believe you’ve been carrying this around inside you for so long,” Amy says quietly. “I can’t believe you’ve been walking around with this in your heart. You poor thing.” She reaches across the table, squeezing my hand.

“It’s okay,” I tell her.

“It’s not! You went through hell. Now…now I guess I understand a little more. Why you weren’t dating. Honestly? I used to question that myself. Why such a nice, pretty person didn’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend, whatever. Why you were alone.”

“Now you know.” I shrugged. “It happened. It happens to a lot of people. We just don’t talk about it. Jax was the first person I told.”

“Why did you tell him?”

“Because…he found me. Tommy.”

Amy’s rocked to her core. She covers her mouth with both hands. “Oh, no! I can’t believe it!”

“He was texting me, sending me messages on social media. He’s insane, point-blank.”

“Uh, yeah. He sounds that way. When’s the last time he reached out to you?”

I look over at the wall behind the coffee machines. There’s that article, framed. Right where I hung it the day I opened the place. I point to it, explaining what I got in the mail yesterday. Why I called Jax, why I didn’t come in this morning.

“Jesus. You should have called the police, too!”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly. Honestly, he just happened to call me a few minutes after I opened the mail. I was desperate. I needed him to protect me.”

“And he did.”

“He did. He came running.”

“Oh…” Amy’s eyes light up. “Even though he’s not supposed to be in town?” I nod. Now she gets it.

“You can see, then, can’t you? Why I feel the way I feel? I can’t turn my back on him. Within minutes, he was at my door. In the house. Inspecting every last inch, just so I would feel safe. Even the crawlspace.” We giggle. It’s so nice to have a girlfriend to talk these things out with.

“I was too afraid to come in to work today,” I explain. “It was too raw, too fresh.”

“Why did you come at all?”

“I had to talk to you. More importantly, I can’t let Tommy rule my life. I can’t. He wins if I let him do that.” I shake my head, pointing to it as I do. “He’s in here. So deep. I have to get him out. He could be hundreds, thousands of miles away. But he’s planted seeds, you know? He might as well be right up in my face all over again, screaming about the butter being too cold to spread on his bread. That’s what he wants, too. I can’t let him have it.”

Amy gets up, gives me a hug. “You’re good people,” she says with a smile once she releases me.

“So are you,” I say.

“And so is Jax,” she adds.

My eyes fill with tears. At least she gets it. One down, the rest of the town to go.

***

We finally close up shop. It’s much later than we have to, I realize. We sat talking for hours, long after closing time normally occurs. It felt so good to get everything off my chest, I completely lost track of time.

We stand outside the shop together, Amy and I. “Thank you for listening to me,” I say, hugging her again. “It means the world.”

“I’ve got your back. Just let anybody try to say anything against you. I’ll set them straight,” she promises.

“That means the world, too, but I don’t want you getting yourself into hot water on my account. Just steer the gossip mongers my way. I’ll be the one to set them straight. You don’t have to fight my battles.” I give her a smile and another hug. She’s such a good friend. I don’t know what I’d do without her right now.

“Are you going to Jax’s?” she asks just before we part ways.

“I think I’ll take your advice and go over, yeah. First I want to go home to change.” There’s flour all over my clothes. She smiles.

“Maybe you should pack an overnight bag?” She giggles, and I swat at her with my gloves. We walk to our cars, laughing.

I drive home feeling oddly buoyant. I should write a book, I decide. All about the lies we tell ourselves. We have ourselves convinced no one will ever understand us. We can’t share our story with others. People will judge us, shun us. We’ll feel ashamed. That’s nonsense! I laugh at myself, out loud, at the thought. It’s total nonsense. We can’t live in our hearts all the time. When we’re hurting, we have to reach out and share our stories. Who knows? Maybe another person can relate, and our bravery will help them, too.

I’m feeling extremely confident as I climb the stairs, digging my keys out of my bad. I’m even humming, I realize. Something I haven’t done in ages. I can’t wait to get to Jax’s. I know I can make him understand where I was coming from earlier today. Even if he’s listened to my message and is still brooding, I can get through to him somehow. I just need the chance.

I walk into the house, flipping the light switch as I do.

When the lights don’t go on, I feel sick. In a split second, everything becomes clear.

Then I’m hit over the head, and it all goes black.

***

Where am I?

I wake up, and everything’s dark. I’m moving, aren’t I? Being bounced back and forth, gently. Like being in a cradle. I’m rocking in a cradle. It’s actually kind of nice.

I close my eyes again, wanting nothing more than to sink into the darkness around me. It’s so sweet, so good, just relaxing like this. Not having to be worried, not having to defend myself or work my way through dark, confusing rumors. Just…being.

Wait.

No.

I can’t go back to sleep.

I open my eyes again. I stretch out my legs…only they don’t stretch all the way. Not even a lot of the way. They’re folded, my knees close to my chest.

I try to stretch out my arms, but they, too, are only going so far. There’s a wall in front of me. I try to roll onto my back. There’s a ceiling right above my head, so low I brush my shoulder against it as I turn. God, it’s so small. So closed in. I feel panic overtaking me. My heart is racing. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.

No. Calm down. Breathe. In. Out. You’ll be okay.

Where am I? I’m moving. That’s one of the first things I realized, right? I’m moving. Where? How?

What’s that smell? Exhaust? And the sounds. Traffic? Are those cars passing by? Oh, my God. The trunk of a car. This isn’t a ceiling. It’s the lid of the trunk.

“Hey!” I scream, pounding my fists on the roof. “Hey! Help me! Let me out! Please!” The car keeps moving, as though I hadn’t said a word.

I turn as best I can, trying to kick out the tail light. I’ve always read you can be found in the trunk of a car by kicking out the tail light and waving your arm. Only there isn’t enough room in the trunk for me to get up enough force. I can’t kick my legs hard enough because I can’t pull back far enough. I struggle, getting sweaty, crying with frustration. What’s going to happen to me?

I try pounding on the lid again. “Please! Let me out! I can’t breathe in here!” Whoever it is, they don’t care. I can tell from the hum of the engine the car doesn’t so much as slow down.

Who’s done this to me?

There are bits of clothing in here. I can tell them from touch. I might have to wrap them around my hands if I want to do any more punching on the trunk lid, so close to my head. It’s a blessing I’m not claustrophobic. I laugh harshly at the idea of a blessing in this situation. There are no blessings here. I’m in the trunk of a car, being taken God only knows where, and I’m counting my blessings. Amazing.

I raise one of the pieces, a shirt, to my nose. I know this cologne. Of course, I knew what was happening the split second I flipped the light switch. It’s Tommy. He found me.

I think back to that idea of writing a book. I’ll have to include a chapter on the moment you realize your abusive ex has finally come for you. You try to turn on the lights inside your house, and they don’t work for the first time. You know, in that instant, that it’s all come to pass. Your worst nightmare has come true. He’s here. Somewhere. And he’s been waiting for you. It’s all been for nothing, all your hiding and dreaming of something better. He’ll never let you go. He wasn’t joking when he said he’d never let you go.

And then he hits you and knocks you unconscious.

My head throbs painfully, as in response to my thoughts. He hit me hard. Now I’m glad I didn’t go to sleep when I wanted to, for fear of a concussion. I touch my fingertips to the sore spot on my head. It stings, and my fingers feel wet. I’m bleeding.

What’s he going to do to me? I could try screaming to him from the trunk, but that won’t do any good. He’s probably in a frenzy by now. He might even kill me.

I think about my parents. I wish I could have spoken to them one more time.

I think about Amy. For the rest of her life, she’ll remember hugging me and laughing with me as we left the store. It’ll be one of those memories that plays in her head for years, over and over. Laughing and joking about taking an overnight back to Jax’s, just before Tommy kidnapped me.

Jax. Oh, God. What will he do? Why didn’t I go straight to his house? None of this would be happening.

I have to keep breathing or else I’ll pass out. Panic threatens to overtake me. I hang on by the thinnest of threads. All I can do is lie here and think. About what might happen. What I can do about it. And whether anyone will come to help me before it’s too late.

Chapter 28

Jax

I spend the day doing a lot of thinking.

At first I was pissed, especially when I first left Christina’s. Beyond pissed. Wishing I’d punched Adam out the second I saw him pull into her driveway. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? Showing up like that, acting superior. Putting the spotlight on Christina, even more than it already was. All out of some sort of grudge against me.

I know why he hates me. It’s had to be that way for a long time. If he knew the full story of what happened the day Marissa died…I don’t know what it would do to him. It’s bigger than me, bigger than her. It was club-level stuff. I don’t know how involved he still is with the club, but I guess he must be close. I would have heard something through the grapevine otherwise.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t wearing his kutte. That’s something to consider. In the Angels, when you ride your bike, you wear your kutte. Maybe he left it at home since he was coming through town. One of the unspoken rules is club members don’t wear them when riding through town. God forbid the townspeople have to be reminded the club exists.

Regardless, Adam was being an ass. Stumbling around. Pathetic.

Was he really pathetic, though? I pace my living room, punching my palm. No. Not pathetic. In pain. I could have stopped him from feeling that pain, but I didn’t. Maybe I’m the pathetic one.

So I was pissed at first. Now I’m desperate. I need her to believe me. I don’t know why. I just do. I have to talk to Christina, even if it means going back to town.

I’ve been thinking about her when I’m not thinking about Adam. I can’t help it. I keep remembering the way she looked when I was fighting with him. The way she looked when he said those awful things. About Marissa. I was sure she didn’t believe me. She was going to turn her back on me, just like everyone else already has. Why not? I’m poison. I kill everything I touch.

Before Adam showed up, she was ready to walk through town with me. Face down anything with me. Stand by my side and defend me, no matter what it meant to her. All it took was Adam’s mouth to set off her doubt. I saw it in her face. She didn’t know what to believe anymore. Me, or the drunk standing out on her lawn.

He wasn’t always like that. I used to think of Adam as a big brother. He was so cool, so in control. I worshiped him, I guess. The brother I’d never had. Then, when I married Marissa, he became my brother. It seemed too good to be true.

Now? He’s a mess. A shadow of who he used to be. Sloppy, drunk, angry. I know it’s my fault. Just not for the reason he thinks.

Nothing I’ve ever said has been good enough. Not for him, not for anybody else in the town. For a minute there, I thought it might be enough for Christina. I was wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time I was wrong about something.

There’s so much she doesn’t know. There are things about the day Marissa died I’ve never told anyone. I did it to protect her. Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe guarding her memory isn’t the way to go. Look what it’s doing to my life.

“What do you think, Blue?” He looks at me from his spot in front of the fire. “You’ve got the life, buddy. You don’t have to worry about shit like this. All you have to do is eat and sleep and run around outside. I wish I were you right now.”

He comes over to me, nuzzling my hand. He’s been my only friend for a long time. After I had split off from the club, I had nobody. It was like being a kid all over again. No friends, no family. I wouldn’t visit my mother for a million dollars. She might be dead, for all I know. I can’t go back to that world. Even riding past a trailer park sends a chill up my spine.

Blue knows all my shit. He’s a good listener. “What should I do, Blue? Should I go to her?” He stares at me. What does he know? He just wants food.

Shit. I stand, pacing. Can I trust her? I feel like she deserves to know everything, but I can’t shake this feeling of betrayal. If I tell the whole story, I’ll be betraying Marissa. She was a good wife until things got bad. She couldn’t help herself in the end. The addiction was too strong by then.

Will she even believe me? Or will she assume I’m lying, just like everyone else always has?

I listen to her voicemail again. She’s on my side. She believes in me. Maybe I should give her a chance to prove it. What if she lets me down, just like everyone else has? It’s fine for a person to say they’ll believe you, until they hear the truth.

I can’t help myself. I call her back. Voicemail. “Hey, it’s Jax. I got your message. I’ve, uh, needed time to think. I want to talk to you. Give me a call, we can meet up someplace.”

After an hour of waiting, I start to worry. Why hasn’t she called? Did she change her mind? Maybe somebody else got to her before I did and tried to turn her against me. It sounds paranoid even to me, but I know anything’s possible in this fucking town. I get my coat and climb on my bike.

I know I could catch shit for going back into town like this. I made an agreement with the club, years ago, that I wouldn’t come around. They’ve never strictly held me to it—after all, a person has to go to town from time to time. Supplies and whatnot. Otherwise, I’ve been banished. And that’s okay with me. There’s no love lost here.

I guess parking overnight at Christina’s was their idea of going outside the rules. What was I supposed to do? I had to make a choice, and I chose her. I knew the consequences, and I walked right into it. I didn’t care. I still don’t. But she does.

I wonder how many people will see me as I ride through this time. The town looks quiet, nearly deserted. It’s freezing outside, keeping everyone inside their warm homes. But there are eyes everywhere. I swear it’s like some of these people stand at their window just waiting for something to happen. Pretty soon word will start to spread that I’m riding through. Like I’m the fucking grim reaper or something.

It doesn’t matter. I have to talk to her.

I drive down Main Street in the hopes her shop is still open. No, it’s dark now. Maybe that’s for the best—it wouldn’t do her any good if I were seen at the shop. The townspeople might come out with the pitchforks and burning torches.

I go on to her house, hoping this ride wasn’t for nothing. I don’t think she’s got much of a social life. If I’ll find her anywhere besides the shop, her house is probably the place.

Her car’s in the driveway. I breathe a sigh of relief. Now all I have to do is hope she wants to talk to me. It’s been over an hour since I called her, with no reply. This is unlike her. I wonder who got to her in the time since she called. If she went to the shop at all, the possibilities are endless.

I go to the front door, knocking. It opens at the slightest touch. “Hello?” I call out, thinking she forgot to close it all the way. Silence.

I reach over to the light switch, flipping it. The house remains in darkness.

Shit.
Why did I stop carrying a gun?

“Christina?” I open the door wider until it rests against the wall. There’s no sign of movement anywhere in the living room or the kitchen.

I take a step inside, and that’s when I see it. The porch light is on, showing me a dark stain on the carpet just inside the front door. Along with a purse. Christina’s purse, on the floor, contents spilled everywhere.

My heart immediately starts racing. My focus narrows. She’s gone. I know who took her. Why wasn’t I with her? I forgot how much she needed me. Too busy thinking about myself.

I have to find her.