Sexy Bastards Anthology: Bad Boy, Biker, Alpha, Motorcycle Club, Contemporary Romance Collection (83 page)

Chapter 23

Crystal

I stayed by Rams' side as they loaded him into the ambulance. "Can I go with him?" I asked the lead paramedic with the kind eyes.

She nodded. "Go sit up front."

"Call someone to come get my bike," Rams whispered, then coughed hard. Blood appeared on his lips.

"Lean back, don't talk," the paramedic told him as she climbed in next to him. A firefighter handed her Rams' IV bag, then slammed the doors. I ran around the front to climb in before the ambulance pulled away. I knew it was bad. Shots to the chest were always bad. Too many vital things in there to be hit.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, but twisted in my seat to see behind us. I had no idea where Talon was. I hadn't seen him since we'd first heard the sirens. The shooting had stopped and Talon had torn up the hill, his gun out in front of him. When the cops showed up, I told them what had happened, and they all went that way too. Now it was just us and the fire trucks, but we were leaving, lights on and siren blaring.

***

Crystal

At the hospital, the paramedics wheeled Rams into the emergency room, but a harsh-faced nurse steered me right into the waiting room, saying it would be a while before I was allowed back with Rams.

I sat down in one of the cruddy plastic chairs, feeling completely numb, but quickly realized there was no way I could sit still. I stood and paced, saying a silent prayer for Rams to be ok. I never felt more helpless in my entire life.

Phone calls! I had to start calling people. Glad for something to do, I walked outside the emergency room and tried Talon first. No answer. When Whitey and my dad didn't answer either, I tried the clubhouse but there was no answer there either. How could that even happen? There was always somebody at the club. I rubbed my eyes and scanned my contacts for any other club member. I had Rams' phone number but that wasn't going to help me much. The thought made my throat close and hateful tears burn in my eyes.

I paced in front of the emergency room, avoiding the traffic and people. A motorcycle that looked just like my dad's caught my eye and I jogged over to see it. It was parked just inside the parking garage but as I got closer I could tell it wasn't my dad's. The body style was the same but it was missing his saddlebags and was dirty and beat up. My eyes checked the license plate automatically but there wasn't one. Just a tiny replica like you might get in a greeting card shop. It read
Beat
. I puzzled over this for a long minute, before my attention was pulled away by a shout.

I lifted my head and scanned the dark parking garage. The shout had sounded like it came from a kid but I couldn't see anyone. I looked the other way, toward the entrance to the emergency room, unsure.

I heard another shout, and then a yelp of pain and a child started crying.

"Hey," I called. "You ok?"

The crying got louder. I walked towards the sound, then ran a little. The cry echoed off the cement walls and ceiling, then cut off, like someone had put a hand over the child's mouth. I could feel my muscles tensing, like I was headed into a fight. What was going on? Where was the child?

I slowed, thinking I had reached the spot I had heard the crying coming from. It was a far corner of the garage, and there was only one car parked this far away. I bent and looked under it, then sensed something coming behind me.

A large form hit me from behind, causing panic to leap to the forefront of my mind. I had already gone through this! I beat my hands at the person behind me and tried to pull out of his grasp, but he was too strong. I plunged my hand in my pocket, remembering what had worked before, but my fingers couldn't grasp well.

"Not this time, bitch," a voice growled in my ear and I felt my muscles grow heavy. My head fell to the side and something caught my eye. A syringe, sticking out of my arm.

Oh fuck.

With the last of my strength, I pulled my hand out of my pocket, spilling what had been in it to the ground. I heard it clink on the concrete and wondered if it would make any difference.

Probably not.

Strong arms lifted me, then spilled me into a tiny compartment. The trunk of a car.

A man loomed over me. A man with a bandage over his eye. He watched me as I struggled to breathe, then his head disappeared. When it reappeared he was holding my challenge coin that I had dropped, hoping to leave someone a clue. An evil smile crossed his lips as he put it in his shirt pocket.

"Your father's almost done," the man said. I struggled to make sense of the words. Done? Done with what? "And we didn't even need you, imagine that. I would have let you go if you hadn't taken my eye, but now I have to take something of yours."

My vision faded to a pinprick as I saw him lift the bandage covering his eye.

My sight went completely black and I had a moment to feel grateful for that before my mind went too.

Chapter 24

Talon

I stared out of the back of the cop car, watching the cops crawl all over the place. Guaranteed they were going to take me to the station, even though I'd already told my story three times. Thank God Crystal was ok. One of the firefighters had told me she'd gotten in the ambulance with Rams.

I wanted to be pissed that she'd been there, but who could I be pissed at except myself? I should have known she wouldn't let Rams take her to the clubhouse. She must have pulled something pretty crazy to convince him to bring her here though.

What's done is done, time to move forward.

I hadn't found any sign of who had been shooting at us. My bike was hit and I still didn't know if it would ride or not. Rams was more important, but the cops had taken my cell so I didn't even know how he was.

The young officer whose car I was in walked over and opened the door, motioning for me to get out. I stood and stretched my legs then stared at him, waiting.

"You're free to go," he said, handing me my phone and my keys.

I hadn't expected that.

"My bike?"

"You can take it. We photographed it."

"The gun you took from me?"

He gave me a look that said
don't be stupid
, and I dropped it. I was lucky I wasn't being arrested just for having it on me.

I walked across the grass island that separated the back road of the rest stop from the front parking lot, where they'd pushed my bike.

I gave it a quick once over and found a scraped exhaust pipe and a long furrow in the seat. The gas tank was fine. I needed to get to the hospital quickly. I needed to know that Rams was ok, but I also needed to talk to Crystal. I'd been a dick to her, and if she had gotten hurt, that would have weighed on me for eternity.

But first, I had to figure out what in the hell had happened here. Whitey had called and said Whip was in trouble at the rest area. Four guys had jumped him and he was hiding in the bathroom. But Whip hadn't been there, and Whitey had never shown up with the cavalry. It had been a setup. But just who in the hell was doing the setting up? It had to be Whip or Whitey, or both, but that didn't make any sense. And why me? Someone had been after Crystal yesterday, but Whitey had told me to send her to the clubhouse, that he would leave someone behind to watch her. I had already puzzled over the scenario a dozen times, and it made less sense each time. Now to get some answers.

I called Whitey but his phone just rang. I called the clubhouse.

"MMMC," Rush's voice said.

"Rush, is Whitey there?"

"Nah, Talon, it's just me here."

"Why didn't you guys show up at the rest stop?"

"For what?"

"What the fuck, Rush, Rams was shot at the Fisher's Grove rest stop and you guys don't even know about it?"

"What? When?"

"Like three hours ago. He's at the hospital now. Didn't Crystal call?"

"Talon, I only got here an hour ago and the phone ain't rung since. Whitey was here but he left. Didn't say where he was going. Ain't nobody else been here all day, as far as I can tell."

I didn't know what to make of any of it. The whole damn world seemed to have lost its mind.

"Thanks, Rush. I'm heading to the hospital now. Call me if you see Whitey, Whip, or Crystal."

"I'm coming to the hospital."

"No, man, stay there. I need eyes there. I gotta talk to them. Something dodgey is going on."

"Yeah, fine, but call me and tell me how Rams is."

"Will do."

***

Talon

A helpful volunteer directed me up to a recovery ward in the hospital where she said Rams would be in a few short minutes. I rode the elevator up, expecting to find Crystal in the waiting room, but it was empty. While I was asking about her at the nurse's desk, Rams was wheeled by on a bed, his eyes closed.

I looked questioningly at the nurse. She nodded. "You can go in to see him."

I followed them into the room and waited while the aide set Rams' bed up, then left.

"Rams, you ok?"

He opened his eyes and smiled at me. I could tell immediately that he was high as the sky on something. His pupils were constricted to tiny pinpoints, even though the room was dark.

"Talon! Fucker shot me, huh?"

I approached the bed and looked him over. "Where?"

Rams moved his left arm slowly and pulled open his gown to show me a small, seemingly unimportant bandage on his right pec. "Nicked my lung but doctor says I'm gonna be fun. No, fine." His words were slurred and his eyes kept drifting closed.

"That's good to hear, Rams. I'm going to get out of here. Let you sleep. Where's Crystal?"

Rams shook his head and fought to keep his eyes open. "She never came to see me once in the ER. I sent the nurse to look for her and the nurse said she was gone."

I grabbed on hard to the bedrail, not trusting myself to speak. He got her. I knew it, deep down in my being. It was my fault. Somehow, it was my fault, and now I had to find her or die trying.

"Rams, get some sleep. I'll check in with you later."

Rams grabbed my arm. "Call Ginnia, tell her."

"I will," I said, uncurling his fingers from my wrist and laying his hand down next to his body. His eyes were closed already. I turned and burst out of the room, then ran down the hallway. For all I knew, every minute, every second counted, and I didn't even know where to start looking.

I pounded down the stairs to the emergency room entrance, going over my options, knowing I didn't have any. One thing became semi-clear to me though, I had to find Whitey, had to get ahold of Whip. They both knew something they weren't telling me. If I had to force it out of them, I would, but I couldn't even try until I found them.

I ran outside, dodging people, trying to figure out how he could have gotten her. Whoever he was. She had come in the ambulance. I could start there, call the ambulance company, talk to the paramedic. Ask if they had seen anything. What Crystal had done when they arrived at the hospital. I walked out into the parking lot, then turned around and looked at the hospital. There were cameras. That was good. But would I be able to convince security to let me playback the last three or four hours? Would that even help me?

I wracked my brain, trying to think of someone who could help. No club members worked at the hospital, but a few might know people here. I didn't have any cop friends, except Cormic, but he was just out of training, would he be able to help me? He could at least talk to security here. My eyes scanned the hospital and I seemed to hear a clock ticking in my ears, counting down the seconds to something. It had been hours. Crystal could already be dead, and if she was, I was too.

Something caught my eye. A motorcycle in the first stall of the parking garage. It looked just like Whip's even though I could tell it wasn't. But it gave me an idea.

Chapter 25

Talon

I dove into traffic on my bike, weaving between cars, passing on the right side. Now that I had a destination, the clock ticked even louder. I had to find her.

I had called Knox. When he'd answered, he'd sounded genuinely happy to hear from me. I didn't mention the money, I didn't even think of it. I told him what I needed and what was at stake and he got down to business immediately. He'd said he couldn't get the information I was looking for, but he had some FBI friends who probably could. He'd called me back in only twenty minutes with an answer. They must have been pretty good friends.

Knox had asked them to look on all the street and highway cameras in the area for Whip and Whitey's motorcycles and for the black van from yesterday. The street cameras could identify license plates. Whitey's was easy. Whitey. Whip's wasn't personalized, so it wasn't so easy, but I'd washed and polished that motorcycle so many times when I was a prospect I had it memorized.

Knox had called back saying the black van hadn't been seen all day, but Whitey's motorcycle had been spotted heading North under the Chestnut St. overpass an hour ago, and Whip's motorcycle had been driven south off the Westwood off-ramp three hours ago. That put them both within a mile of the industrial area. And that gave me a place to start.

The warehouse that Whip owned that no one knew about.

But the kicker, the one thing that was really confusing me, was the last thing he'd told me.

"Knox, how did you get ahold of that life insurance deed, and what made you think it was pertinent?" I'd said.

"What are you talking about?"

"In the packet you sent me with the tax information on the warehouse. It had that, Whip's rap sheet, and the life insurance deed on his wife."

"Talon, I didn't include any life insurance deed. I sent over the tax form and the rap sheet, but that was it."

I'd hung up then, knowing it had to have been someone at the club who had put it in there. Whitey. But if Whitey knew something, why hadn't he just come out and told me? Everyone's mouth was sewn shut for some reason.

I was fifteen miles away, but closing in fast. The only weapon I had on me was a utility knife on my belt, but I didn't dare drive to the clubhouse for a gun. I couldn't take the time. The only two people I would have asked for help, Rams and Jaze, were gone. It was all starting to feel like one giant setup that had started a month ago, and I had no idea who the players were.

None of it mattered though. I would improvise. If I found the man who had taken Crystal I would kill him with my bare hands. I had done it before in a war I used to believe in.

But what would I do when I found Whitey, or Whip?

I had no idea.

I cut my speed as I entered the industrial area, not wanting to alert anyone to my presence. A block away from the old warehouse building, I parked my bike and walked, eyeing the parking lot for cars, for bikes, for movement, for anything.

A chain link fence surrounded the building and large parking lot. Smaller storage buildings were lined up along the far side of the fence, but other than them, everything seemed deserted. I wouldn't allow the bitter tastes of disappointment and desperation to fill my mouth until I'd been inside and found it empty.

I stole up to the front door of the quiet building. My intuition was quiet, meaning I was probably ok, for now. I tried the door but it was locked. It hadn't been locked the last time I'd been through here.

I examined the lock and the heavy double doors that met in the middle. It was an old building, and I wouldn't even have to pick the lock. I pulled out my knife and jammed it between the two doors, quietly working it back and forth between the two latches until I had them both pried open and the door free. It would have gone quicker without my riding gloves, but my gut told me to leave them on.

I squeezed inside, shutting the door behind me, then standing very still and holding my breath.

I heard talking.

Jackpot.

I snuck down the corridor, scanning the floors and empty rooms I passed for a weapon. Anything heavy enough to brain someone with. I saw nothing but trash, leaves, and the occasional piece of furniture.

I still couldn't make out the words, but I knew the person talking was not someone I'd ever heard before. Black van guy? My nerves went on lockdown, my entire body tensed and ready for what I instinctively knew would be a fight to the death.

Please God, let Crystal be the one to make it out of here alive.

I reached the open door where the voice was coming from and I stopped outside, pressed against the wall, listening. From my vantage point, all I could see was one small, empty corner of the room. It looked like all the others I had passed. Empty. Dark. Dead.

"... all they know is you've been keeping an awful lot of secrets. Secrets from everyone." The man made several tsk noises with his tongue. "Such a bad idea." 

I had to get a visual. Had to take the risk. Before I could move, I heard Whip's voice. He sounded farther away than the other man, and different, like he was facing me and the other man was facing away.

"I can't change what happened, Bulldog. I made a bad decision. We all did."

I pressed my nose against the wall, and slowly dragged my face to the left. More of the room came into view of my one eye, as the side of my head became visible to anyone in the room.

"Yeah, we
all
did, didn't we?"

The man snorted, but the direction of his voice didn't change. My left eye cleared the doorway and I could see everything in the tiny room but the far right, inner corner. Whip stood against the far wall, his arm stretched out from his body, his hand handcuffed to a heavy workbench. Another man stood opposite him, with his back to me. He was tall, thin, wiry, with brown hair. Black van man. Bulldog.

My movement caught Whip's attention and our eyes met. He looked away quickly, and I pulled back behind the cover of the door.

Before I could think about what I had seen, formulate a plan, Bulldog appeared in the doorway, gun in hand, pointed at my belly.

"Talon, is it? Come on in, join the party."

I scanned his face. Old, weathered, bandage over one eye. A combination of wisdom and cynicalness that tipped me off to the probability that he was a veteran. Probably Vietnam with Whip and Whitey. Which made him a thousand times more dangerous.

I walked inside and stopped half-way in.

"Lift your arms, let me see."

I lifted my cut, showed him all the places I could have a gun hidden, then turned and did it again.

"Pockets."

I pulled them out, holding the tiny utility knife in my hand. He ignored it. It was nothing against a gun.

He made the tsk noise again. "Didn't even bring a weapon. Watching you ride yesterday, I would have thought you were smarter than that."

"Where's Crystal?" I demanded.

Bulldog smiled. "Ask her dad."

I turned to Whip, my face hard. If I could have killed him with my eyes, I would have.

Whip shook his head. "I don't know, Talon, I swear. He's lying. When he came in he said she was alive, but not for long." His voice shook on the last word.

Something inside me broke. I didn't know who or what to believe, but the thought of anyone threatening Crystal made my body heat up and my hands clench into fists so tight my palms ached.

"Where the fuck is she?" I said again, slowly, forcing each syllable through my vocal cords.

"Ah, that's sweet," Bulldog said, turning to Whip. "Isn't it? This your future son-in-law? Or is your daughter the club whore?"

I took a murderous step towards him and he raised the gun to eye level. "Come on now, Talon. That's not how this works. You move again and I have to blow your brains out. Then who's going to save your whor—oops, excuse me, your innocent girlfriend from the quick and painless death her father ordered for her?"

Whip shook his head. "Talon, I swear, I didn't. He's making this up. He's got an agenda."

"Shut up old man!" Bulldog yelled. "That's my fucking agenda, that you shut the fuck up and quit your scheming for once in your life."

I didn't know who or what to believe, and for now, I didn't care. I just wanted to find Crystal.

A noise from the hallway caught all our attentions.

"It's just me," a voice called and I recognized it as Whitey.

I guess that part was settled. Whitey was definitely in on it, whatever
it
was.

My club was corrupted by a founding member, someone was killing people, and I might be next.