CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“God, I love dancing,” Kimber said, sucking on a cigarette. It was just shy of midnight on Friday, and
we stood on the sidewalk outside a club in downtown Spokane. I had a nice buzz going.
“My feet are gonna hurt so bad, but totally worth it,” I agreed, swaying a little. I felt my cheeks
flush, which was funny, so I started laughing. Kimber shook her head at me.
“I can’t take you anywhere,” she said gravely. “Lightweight. Where the hell did Em go? I want to
check out this guy of hers. I thought the deal was we’d look him over and decide whether he’s worth
her time. She’s cheating.”
“No shit. Bitch. I hate her.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Kimber replied, stabbing the air with her smoke for emphasis. “How am I supposed to live the single life vicariously if I don’t get any details?”
I shook my head and shrugged mournfully.
“I’m doing my part. I tell you everything.”
“And don’t think I don’t appreciate it,” she said, tearing up slightly. We gave each other a drunken
hug.
We’d hit the first bar around ten, and by ten thirty Em had disappeared to meet her online hottie,
Liam. She was supposed to bring him inside to meet us, but they snuck off to a bar down the street
instead. I would’ve suspected kidnapping and murder by eleven thirty, when we moved on to the next
club, but she’d been sending us regular text messages that made it clear she was enjoying her evening.
Long story short—Liam was gorgeous, we’d get to meet him in a while, she was definitely going to
sleep with him, and she was pretty sure he could handle her dad. Apparently Liam was Em’s perfect
man.
She promised not to leave the other bar without us, so we called it good.
“Hopefully they’re in some corner booth making out,” I said glumly.
“Not too much,” Kimber said darkly. “If she f*cks him before I give my approval, she’s losing her
margarita privileges.”
Talking about making out reminded me of Ruger, and thinking of Ruger made me want to drink
more. I still couldn’t believe I’d f*cked him. Again. I couldn’t shake the man. Thank God we didn’t need to be back in Coeur d’Alene until noon, because I had a lot more alcohol to drink. Kimber’s
husband was definitely taking one for the team tonight, watching both kids. I needed to bake him
cookies or something …
“Is it creepy that I want to bake for your husband?” I asked her. She burst out laughing and I started laughing, too, and then my phone buzzed.
EM: I want to go back to the hotel. He’s defintely THE ONE
I read it and squeed, handing the phone over to Kimber. She started thumb-typing furiously.
Kimber: Dont u dare! We have to chck him out frist. Ur NOT follwing the plan
EM: Yu’ll meet him in a minut come down to Mick’s and we can head from there. We’ll wait outside
I yanked my phone back and glared at Kimber.
“That’s mine! I get to yell at her first.”
“We can’t yell at her in front of Internet Hottie!” she told me. “That’s a cockblock. We’ll yell at her
tomorrow.”
I considered this.
“Okay,” I said. “But I still call dibs on first yelling once we ditch his ass.” She sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Whatever.”
We didn’t see them outside Mick’s. It was a tiny hole-in-the-wall place we almost missed because it was next to a good-sized club with a long line. I texted Em and got no response.
“She’s probably just peeing or something,” Kimber said, eyeing a group of collegey-looking guys
standing in a clump on the sidewalk. They eyed her back and she smiled.
“Hey!” I hissed. “Married, remember?”
She laughed.
“I’m just looking, don’t be so uptight. I promise not to touch, okay?” My phone buzzed.
EM: Heading out
We stood on the sidewalk for another five minutes. Nothing. I started getting a little nervous. I texted again. No reply.
Another ten minutes passed and I’d had enough. This didn’t feel right.
“I’m gonna go check on her,” I told Kimber. She’d lost interest in the college boys when they’d come over and tried to pick us up. They’d been pretty to look at, but not exactly brilliant
conversationalists.
She nodded, concern on her face.
“I’ll wait out here,” she said, looking up and down the street. “Just in case they show up.”
“I don’t want you outside by yourself,” I replied. She jerked her chin toward the bouncer at the club next door.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Anything happens, I’ll scream for him. Go find our girl.”
“All right,” I said, my voice grim. “But when I find her, we’re kicking her ass. This isn’t cool.”
The place was small and dark—just a tiny, narrow little bar, way rougher than I expected. No
wonder the college boys stayed outside. The men in here would crumple them up and throw them
away like used … um … something. Straw wrappers? No, something worse. I shook my head, foggy
from the booze. Focus. There were more men than women, and most kept their eyes on their drinks.
My quickly sinking opinion of Liam went down another notch. What kind of guy took a girl to a place
like this?
We shouldn’t have let Em out of our sight, I realized.
I didn’t find her in the main bar so I wandered to the back, where a long hallway led past some
grotty-looking bathrooms and an office. It ended with a fire door that had been propped open with a
brick.
I texted Kimber.
ME: Any sign of them?
KIMBER: No this is bllshit
ME: Not in bar. I’ll look in the ally then com back
I stepped up to the fire door cautiously. Would Em really go out there with a guy she didn’t know?
Except she probably felt like she did know him. They’d been calling each other for a while now. Hell,
I’d gone on dates with guys I’d only met a few times. Still … I pushed the door open and peeked
outside to find a tall, dark-haired man in faded jeans and motorcycle boots leaning against the side of a battered cargo van.
He smiled at me like a shark and winked.
Oh my God. I recognized him. It was one of the guys from that other club, the Devil’s Jacks. The ones who’d come to my apartment in Seattle.
Hunter.
What was he doing here? Holy shit … Coincidence? Or were Hunter and Liam the same person?
I opened my mouth to scream when someone shoved me from behind, knocking me out into the
alley. I stumbled and nearly fell. Then Hunter’s arms caught me, swooping me up and carrying me
toward the back of the van. I shrieked as loud as I could—kicking and fighting as he tossed me in— but the pounding music from the club next door almost guaranteed nobody heard me. Em lay on the
floor, arms cuffed behind her back, a bandana gagging her mouth. Her legs were tied tight with what looked like white clothesline.
Hunter climbed in after me, wrestling me down and wrenching away my phone. Within seconds my own mouth was gagged and he’d closed another set of cuffs around my wrists. I lay facedown on the floor, eyes wide and staring at Em, who stared right back at me. I felt someone else climb in and heard a door slam, and the engine roared to life.
Hunter spoke, his voice cool and detached.
“Sorry, girls. Hopefully this won’t get too ugly and you’ll get to go home soon.” The van started moving.
RUGER
His beer had gotten warm.
For once, there wasn’t a party at the clubhouse or a barbecue or anything happening, which was a f*cking shame because all he could think about was Sophie out dancing in Spokane with her slut of a best friend. He should be focusing on his trip to Portland tomorrow, but he really couldn’t bring
himself to give a damn.
Jesus, he’d nearly shit his pants when he realized who she was going out with tonight. Kimber’s
stage name had been Stormie, and the bitch was famous for having a mouth like a vacuum. Even he’d taken her home one night … It’d been okay, but not worth breaking his no-repeats rule.
Now he wondered if she’d been filling Sophie’s head with stories about him all along. Also
explained why she’d been interested in working at The Line—Kimber had made a goddamned fortune there, one of their most popular dancers.
She’d been an even bigger hit in the VIP rooms.
He’d considered simply physically stopping Sophie from going, but figured that would do him more harm than good in the long run. She’d been dodging him since their night in the hayloft and he’d let it go. The first week of a new job was stressful, so he’d given her a break. This ladies’ night thing had caught him off guard. He’d only found out because Noah had a big mouth.
Kid was full of all kinds of useful information.
Picnic walked into the main lounge with a girl trailing him. She looked about sixteen, although
Ruger knew she had to be older. No jailbait in the Armory—that was trouble they sure as f*ck didn’t need. Pic wore the look of man who’d gotten well laid, and he sent her on her way with a smack on the ass. Then he walked over to Ruger.
“What’s with you?” he asked, dropping into one of the mismatched chairs across from the couch.
“I’m bored,” Ruger said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And apparently I’m getting old, because my neck hurts from sitting at my bench today, taking care of that special order.”
“You’re f*ckin’ pathetic,” Pic said.
“That’s the truth.”
“I hear your girl moved out.”
“Yeah, we can talk about something else now.”
Picnic laughed shortly.
“First Horse and now you,” he said. “Whole damned place is turnin’ up p-ssy-whipped.”
“F*ck off, a*shole,” Ruger replied. “The only reason I’m sitting here right now instead of f*ckin’ her face is I’m not willing to hand her my cock on a leash. And you should talk. Screwing kids
younger than your daughter? Creeps me out, thinkin’ of your old ass doing a chick like that.”
“At least I got laid tonight,” Pic answered mildly. “Unlike some.”
His phone rang. He pulled it out and looked at the ID.
“It’s Em,” he said shortly, standing and ambling across the room. Then Pic froze, his body language screaming tension. Thirty seconds later, Ruger’s phone rang.
Sophie.
“You better not be—” he started, but she cut him off.
“Shut up and listen,” she said, her voice tight. Ruger sat up. “Those guys you met in Seattle? The Devil’s Jacks? They’ve got me and Em. We’re in Spokane and they—”
He heard her scream as someone grabbed the phone. Adrenaline slammed through him, taking him
from relaxed to ready for action in a heartbeat. Instead of acting on it, he forced himself to stay calm
and listen with everything he had. They’d need every clue they could to find Sophie … and Em? What the f*ck? Jesus, Em should know better than to go out without giving Pic a heads-up. How had Em
gotten mixed up in this?
“Ruger,” a man said. “This is Skid. From Seattle. We got a bit of a problem.”
“You’re dead,” Ruger replied, his voice flat, and he meant it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Picnic grab a bar stool and smash it against the wall. Horse was on his feet, pushing a trio of girls out the door as Painter grabbed a sawed-off shotgun from behind the bar.
Slide wandered in from the bathroom and glanced around, brows rising.
“Yeah, we’ll talk about my death later,” Skid said, sounding bored. “Listen up. Your boy in Portland —Toke—he went apeshit on two of our brothers a coupla hours ago. Just broke into the damned house and started shooting. There’s cops everywhere, a couple of bitches who saw it all go down, total
clusterf*ck. Girls are talkin’ to the cops, too, just to make things perfect. Docs are working on one guy right now, no idea if he’ll make it. Toke dragged the other off.”
“You’re full of shit,” Ruger said. Toke might be a wild card but he wouldn’t ignore a vote by the full club.
“Process later,” Skid snapped. “It’s time for you to get your boy under control and our man back to
us. Safe. Until then, we’ll take good care of—what’s her name again? Sophie? We’ll take good care of
sweet little Sophie for you. She’ll be just fine once we clear this up. Our boy goes down? Her
prospects don’t look so good. Got a real nice ass. Might tap it before I shoot her. Got me?”
He hung up.
“F*ck,” Ruger muttered, kicking over the coffee table as he stood up. Pic yelled as Horse and Bam
Bam held him back. Ruger ignored the drama, striding down the hall, past the office, and into the large workshop where he did his special projects. He flipped open his laptop and pulled up the tracker,
narrowing his search.
There they were—Sophie’s and Em’s phones were near the river, downtown Spokane. They’d be in
the water soon. By the time he could get there, the Jacks would be in the wind, along with their girls.
Goddamnit. Ruger turned and punched the wall, smashing through the sheetrock. Sharp pain hit,
helping him focus. He pulled an unregistered .38 semi-automatic out of his bench drawer and shoved it into his ankle holster, then grabbed extra clips. Then he turned and went back down the hall to find Picnic and the others arguing over what they should do. Pic wanted to ride now—Horse, Bam Bam,
and Duck all wanted to take the time to make a plan, which Ruger knew needed to happen. Couldn’t do shit in Spokane until they had more info.
Toke had lost the vote but he’d won the battle.
The Reapers and the Devil’s Jacks were going to war.
SOPHIE
I don’t know how long we rode in the back of the van. It felt like forever. Then I heard the sound of a garage door opening. We pulled in and it shut behind us. Hunter and the driver stepped out of the van, coming around to open the back doors.
Hard hands—not Hunter’s—grabbed my ankles, pulling me out roughly. My cheek scraped, and if
the kidnapping hadn’t fully sobered me, the pain finished the trick. He half carried, half dragged me
into the house. Then he dropped me down on the couch and I struggled to sit up. Hunter set Em down
next to me, far more gently. He stepped back and joined his friend. Guy number two was Skid—the
other Devil’s Jack I’d met in Seattle. They stood over us, faces grim, and I knew we were well and
truly f*cked.
My stomach twisted and I thought about Noah. Would I ever see him again?
“Here’s the situation,” Hunter said, his cold gray eyes flicking back and forth between us. Could he
actually be Em’s Internet guy? She hadn’t been lying. He really was hot—even better-looking than I
remembered.
Too bad he was a goddamned sociopath.
Or maybe he’d done something to Liam. For all I knew, Em’s online boyfriend was lying dead in the alley. Shit.
“You’re here as leverage. One of the Reapers down in Portland—Toke—made a real bad call
tonight. He went to our house and started shooting, no warning, no provocation. He took a hostage
when he left. One of our brothers is down and a second is probably getting tortured to death right now, so you’ll have to excuse us for being a little abrupt about this whole thing. Your daddy,” he nodded toward Em, “is gonna do what it takes to get our guy back for us. That happens, you go home.”
She glared at him, eyes full of betrayal. He leaned forward and pulled off her gag, whispering something in her ear. Em jerked away from him.
“You’re dead, Liam,” she said, her voice utterly serious. So that was one mystery solved … Poor Em. My heart hurt for her.
“My dad is going to kill you,” she continued. “Let us go now and I’ll try to talk him out of it. Otherwise it’ll be too late. I’m serious. He. Will. Kill. You.”
Hunter shook his head.
“Sorry, babe,” he replied. “I get that you’re scared and pissed, but I’m not going to let a brother die just because some Reaper had a tantrum.”
“F*ck you.”
He glanced at Skid, who shrugged. Hunter sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, looking tired.
“Okay, let’s go upstairs,” he said. He glanced at me. “We’ll take your gag off, but either of you
starts screaming we’ll just have to put them back on. We’re in the middle of nowhere, so it’s not like you’re gonna get anywhere if you do. You two control how ugly this gets. Got me?”
With that, he pulled out a Leatherman multi-tool and cut the rope on Em’s feet. Then he started on
mine. I heard a clicking noise and looked up to find Skid pointing a small, square pistol at us.
“You cause trouble, I’ll shoot you,” he said. “Hunter’s nice. I’m not.”
I swallowed.
Hunter pulled me to my feet and I rocked nervously, trying to get circulation back. It was hard to balance with my hands cuffed behind my back. He helped Em up and then they marched us up the flight of stairs off to one side of the living room.
The house’s second story was pretty typical, with a small landing at the top. Looked like there were three bedrooms, along with the bathroom, reminding me that I needed to pee in a big way. Hunter took Em’s arm and pulled her into a room on the right, kicking the door shut behind them.
“Over there,” Skid said, pointing to the door next to it. I walked in to find a queen-sized bed with a very plain wrought-iron frame, a battered dresser, and an old desk. There was a small window, which looked like it’d been painted shut. I wondered how hard it would be to get it open. If I did, could I manage a drop back down to the ground?
“Stand next to the bed, facing away from me,” Skid said.
Oh, shit … The bed took on a whole new meaning. I did what he said, my body bracing for the
worst. Was Skid about to rape me? Would Hunter rape Em? He’d obviously been cultivating some sort of relationship with her. Was it all about the club, or was there something more?
Em was a very pretty girl. A girl who deserved better.
I trembled as Skid came up behind me, feeling the heat of his body and hoping to hell I wasn’t his type. I felt his hands touch mine, then he popped open one of the cuffs.
“Lie down,” he said, his voice unreadable. Should I fight him, or just close my eyes and take it? I wanted to live a lot more than I wanted to fight. I’d let him do it and just hope it ended fast.
I laid down on my back, focusing on the ceiling, blinking rapidly.
“Put your hands up over your head.”
I raised my arms as he leaned over me. He paused, looking me over, and I saw his eyes catch on the swell of my breasts. I bit the side of my cheek, trying not to break down and start begging. I didn’t
want to give him that power over me. He reached down, catching my hands, and I felt a tug on the
cuffs as he threaded the chain through the wrought iron. Then he snapped the second cuff back on me.
Skid stood back up and walked over to the window, looking outside, crossing his arms. My breath
caught. Was that it? Was I safe for now? He glanced back toward me, thoughtful.
“The guy Toke took is my brother,” he said. “Not just my club brother—my half brother. Only
family I have. Believe me when I tell you I’ll do anything to get him back. Don’t think being a woman protects you. Nothing will protect you. Got me?”
I nodded.
“Good girl,” he said. “Keep it up and maybe you’ll live.” He turned and walked out.
I lay there forever, needing to pee so bad it hurt. I supposed I should’ve asked Skid to take me to the bathroom before he locked me down. Sooner or later I’d wet the bed. I didn’t care. I’d rather piss myself than call for Skid to come back and help me. Then I heard a scream and the sound of
something shattering against the wall my room shared with Em’s.
I forgot all about my bathroom situation.
“You cocksucking bastard!” Em shrieked. I held my breath as I heard another thump. Oh, God. Was
she fighting with him? Was he raping her? Her voice was full of pain and I felt sick to my stomach,
because whatever was going on over there wasn’t good. The noise died down. I lay in the dark,
counting the seconds. How had something this crazy happened to someone as normal and boring as
me?
Goddamn Reapers.
Ruger’s stupid f*cking club. First Em got stabbed and now we’d been kidnapped. It was like some horrible virus, creeping in and destroying everything it touched without warning.
If I got out of this alive, I was never touching Ruger again.
I couldn’t be with a Reaper, no matter how much I wanted him. I couldn’t allow this to be a part of my life. It couldn’t be part of Noah’s life, either. If Ruger wanted to see my son, he’d damned well leave the club out of it.
As for me? I was done with him. Well and truly done. I knew it in my gut and in my bones—any
man whose reality included women getting kidnapped wasn’t good enough for me. He wasn’t right, no matter how he made me feel.
Period.
I closed my eyes tight as Em screamed again.
I woke with a start as the bed dipped.
Where was I?
I heard Em’s voice and it all came back.
“You okay?” she asked. I opened my eyes to find her sitting next to me. I studied her, looking for signs of abuse or crying.
She didn’t look like a rape victim, though. She looked pissed as hell. If anything, she was prettier
than usual, her cheeks full of color and her hair wild and free. Early morning light filtered in through the window. Hunter stood in the door, eyeing both of us, face unreadable. I couldn’t believe I’d
actually fallen asleep.
“I need the bathroom,” I said, my voice hoarse. God, I felt hungover.
“Can she go to the f*cking bathroom?” Em asked Hunter, her voice cold.
“Yeah,” he said, walking toward me. She stood and moved out of his way, putting as much distance between them as possible. I tried not to flinch as he unlocked me, rolling away as quickly as I could despite my aching muscles.
“C’mon,” Hunter said. “Both of you.”
Em took my hand and we walked out of the room together, her fingers squeezing mine. I wanted to
ask if she was all right, find out what had happened. No way I was going to talk in front of him,
though.
We turned into the small bathroom, which didn’t have a window. Em shut the door behind us,
pausing long enough in the doorway to glare at Hunter in some kind of silent battle. Then the door
shut.
I rushed over to the toilet, incredibly relieved.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, looking over at her. She ran her hands through her hair, then crossed her arms and rubbed up and down. “How are you? Did he hurt you?”
“My pride? Definitely,” she said, eyes snapping. “Not physically. I can’t believe this. Seriously—I can’t believe how stupid I was. I actually invited him to come and meet me. I made it so easy. Idiot.”
I didn’t reply, washing my hands as we swapped places, then cupping them to take a drink. My
mouth was all cottony.
“Do you have any idea what’s going to happen to us?” I asked. “Skid scares the crap out of me.” “Did he hurt you?” she asked, her voice sharp.
“No.”
“That’s good. This is a pretty f*cked-up situation,” she said. “Toke—he’s the one who cut me at the party—he’s gone off his rocker. This shooting thing makes no sense to me at all, but if it really
happened, we’re screwed. Nobody knows where Toke is, not even Deke, and he’s Toke’s president.
They’ve all been looking for him since the party. Cutting me was not okay, and Dad wants to make sure he pays for it.”
“Shit,” I muttered. “So your dad couldn’t give them this Toke guy, even if he wanted to?”
“I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “I mean, he’s really protective of me. When Toke hurt me like that, Dad lost it. If Dad could find him, he’d be found already. We’re pretty f*cked here, Sophie.”
“Do you think they’ll hurt us?”
She considered the question.
“Liam won’t,” she replied. “I mean, he won’t hurt me. I don’t think he’ll hurt you, either.” I cocked my head at her.
“You do realize he was lying to you all along, right? Just because you liked him doesn’t mean you can trust him, Em.”
“Oh, I know that,” she said quickly, then shook her head ruefully. “Believe me, I’m well aware that I’m the f*ckwit who got us into this.”
“You’re not a f*ckwit,” I said forcefully. “He’s a liar and he’s good at it. Not your fault that he
targeted you.”
It was the Reapers’ fault, but I figured rubbing it in wouldn’t be particularly helpful.
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “But I’m serious—I really don’t think he’ll hurt me. I’m more worried about Skid.”
“It’s his brother they’ve got,” I told her. “His real brother. I think he wanted to hurt me.” “You guys okay in there?” Hunter called through the door.
“We’re fine,” Em snapped, startling me. “Give us a f*cking minute, a*shole!” My eyes went wide.
“That was pretty bitchy,” I hissed. “Do you think that’s smart? Maybe I’m reading the situation wrong here, but don’t we want him in a good mood?”
She snorted sarcastically.
“F*ck that,” she replied. “I’m a Reaper and I’ll be damned if I’ll suck up to some Devil’s Jack dickwad.”
“Well I’m not a Reaper,” I said quietly. “And I’d just as soon not die here and leave Noah an orphan, so don’t piss him off.”
She looked chastened.
“Sorry. I guess I have my dad’s temper.”
“Too bad you don’t have your dad’s gun.”
“No shit, right? And I’m the good girl in the family. You should see my sister.”
“You have one minute,” Hunter called through the door. “Then I’m coming in.”
Em washed her hands and we left the bathroom. I avoided making eye contact with Hunter, who stood back and jerked his head toward “my” bedroom.
“Go in and lie down on the bed,” he said. “Both of you.”
We did what he said—although I could see it killed Em to obey—and two minutes later he had us both cuffed to the bedstead. Thankfully, he only did one wrist each, which was way more comfortable than Skid’s method.
“I’ll bring you some food,” Hunter said, tracing a finger across Em’s cheek.
She glared at him. “I’m gonna buy a bright red dress to wear to your funeral, Liam.” “Yeah?” he replied, eyes narrowing. “Make sure it’s short and shows off your tits.” “I hate you,” she hissed.
“Keep tellin’ yourself that.”
He walked out, slamming the door behind him. I bit my tongue, wondering what the hell that was
all about.
“Don’t worry,” Em said after an awkward pause. “We’ll find our way out of this. We’ll escape somehow. Either that or the guys will find us.”
“Do you have any ideas?” I asked, wondering what the hell was going on between them. “Did he tell you anything, give you any hints or clues about where we are?”
“No.”
I waited for her to say more. She didn’t, and that worried me even more.
“So what did you do all night?” I asked slowly. Em ignored the question.
“I wonder if one of them will leave at some point,” she murmured. “If we wait until there’s just one in the house, I’ll bet the two of us could take him. Or even if we distracted him, at least one of us
could get away. Go for help.”
“Do you think we’re really out in the middle of nowhere?” I asked. “Have you seen outside?”
“Haven’t seen outside, but we barely drove long enough to get out of the city,” she said. “There may
not be any houses next door, but there has to be something within walking distance. We just need to
find a way out of these handcuffs. If we can find a paperclip or a pin or something, I can pick the
lock.”
“Really?” I asked, impressed. “Where did you learn that?”
“You’d be surprised at all the things I know,” she said, her voice dry. “Dad believes in being prepared.”
The door opened and Hunter came in balancing two paper plates. He had a couple bottles of water
clutched under his arm and I suddenly realized how hungry and thirsty I was. My stomach growled. He
set everything on top of the little dresser in the corner. Then he walked over and unlocked the
handcuffs.
“You’ve got ten minutes,” he said.
We got up and grabbed the food. It was just plain peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, along with some chips, but it tasted as good as any meal I’ve ever had.
“In a minute, we’re going to call your dad,” Hunter said to Em. “Let him know you’re alive, and find out if he’s made any progress.”
Em glared at him darkly, chewing her food. He sighed, grabbing the chair from the desk and pulling
it out.
“You want to sit?” he asked. She shook her head. Hunter spun the chair around and straddled it
himself, his face blank. His eyes never strayed from Em’s face. Once we finished eating, he nodded toward the bed.
“Lie down again,” he said. We did. Hunter started with me, locking down my right wrist. Then he
walked around the bed to do the same to Em’s left. As he leaned over her, I saw her free hand snake
quickly around to his back jeans pocket, lifting something. In an instant she tucked it under her body.
Hunter froze.
Shit, did he feel that?
We needed a distraction. Now. I bit down on my tongue viciously, then shrieked and started spitting blood at him as hard as I could.
“Jesus Christ!” he yelled, jumping away from the bed like it was on fire. Em dove right in. “Oh my God, are you all right?” she yelled. “Hunter, you need to get her to a doctor!” I stopped spitting, choking on the blood. Ughh …
“I’m tho thorry,” I mumbled, trying to look embarrassed and shocked. “I bith my tongue and ith thcared me.”
Hunter looked at the gobs of blood and spit on his arm with disgust, then glared at me.
“You’re f*cking kidding me,” he said. “What the f*ck’s wrong with you? Shit, you got any
diseases?”
“No, I don’t hath any ditheatheth,” I snapped. Or rather, I tried to snap, which backfired on me because my tongue was swelling so rapidly that I bit it again. “Owth!”
Hunter shook his head, and Em looked at me with wide, concerned eyes. Behind them, I saw laughter dancing.
“Drive me f*ckin’ crazy,” Hunter muttered. “I’ll get you a piece of ice to suck on. Jesus, that’s f*cking disgusting.”
He left the room, slamming the door, and Em almost lost it.
“That was brilliant,” she whispered. “Seriously brilliant. I got his Leatherman. I should be able to get us out of the cuffs with it.”
“We’re thucky he didn’th do both handth. Thkid did.”
“Oh, that sucks,” she said, wrinkling her nose at me. “Let me guess, did you have an itch on your ass or something all night?”
“No, thank fukth,” I replied. Shit, my tongue really hurt. “When will you thry to pick the lockth?”
“When I think he’ll be gone for a while,” she said. She grabbed the Leatherman, then rolled over
and crawled up the bed on her elbows, reaching down between the iron bars to tuck it in somewhere.
“It’s between the mattress and the box spring,” she said. “In case you need it.”
I frowned—if I needed it, she’d be gone, and the implications of that weren’t good.
Hunter returned, holding a paper napkin. I sat up awkwardly as he handed it to me, scooting back
against the headboard. It held an ice cube, which I popped into my mouth as Em joined me.
My throbbing tongue started feeling better immediately, thank God.
“We’re going to call your dad again,” Hunter told Em. “I’ll let you talk to him for a minute, then I’ll see where the situation’s headed.”
“What about Sophie?” she asked. “Ruger will want to talk to her.”
“Ruger can f*ck himself,” Hunter replied. Em glanced at me, and I realized she wanted more
distraction. I wasn’t sure why, but I’d follow her lead. I spat out the bloody ice into my hand
awkwardly.
“Pleathe?” I whined, drooling. “My boy—Noah—he’th got a prethcription he needth, Ruger doethn’t know where it ith. Let me talk to him for two minuteth. Pleathe.”
He looked at me and narrowed his eyes.
“You’re full of shit.”
“You want a seven-year-old kid to die?” Em said, her voice cold. “Not enough to kill two women, now you’re gonna take out a little boy, too? You’re a hell of a man, Liam.”
Hunter sighed.
“Do you ever shut up?” he asked. He pulled a cell out of his pocket, one of those cheap little flip phones you buy at grocery stores, watching us as he dialed. He put it on speaker.
“Yeah?” Ruger said, his voice full of restrained tension. Hunter nodded at me.
“It’s Thophie,” I said quickly. “I’m here with Hunter and Em, they’re lithening.”
Hunter’s eyes narrowed and he snapped the phone shut.
“No f*cking games,” he said. “You’re done.”
I nodded and stuck the ice back into my mouth. At least Ruger knew I was still alive … I’d decided I was done with him last night, but he’d gotten me into this mess, so he could damned well get me back out before I cut him off for good.
“Calling your dad now,” Hunter said to Em, dialing again. “Be a good girl, Emmy Lou—or did you need another lesson?”
Em flushed, looking away. My eyebrows rose. We heard the phone ringing through the speaker, and then it picked up.
“Picnic,” Em’s dad said, his voice cold.
“Hey, Daddy,” Em said. “We’re okay for now.”
“What the f*ck’s wrong with Sophie?” Picnic asked. “Ruger says she wasn’t talking right.”
“She bit her tongue,” Em said quickly. “Don’t worry, she’s fine. But you need to get us out of here.”
“We know, baby,” he replied, and his voice softened ever so slightly. “We’re working on it.”
“That’s enough, girls,” Hunter said, pulling away the phone. He clicked off the speaker and put it to
his ear as he walked out of the room.
Em scooted closer to me, lifting her free arm to wrap it around my neck. I leaned against her, taking comfort from the fact that at least we weren’t alone. The swelling in my tongue had gone down, too,
which was a relief.
“We need to get ourselves out of this,” she told me. “Like I said—Toke’s AWOL. After he cut me, there’s nothing he could have done to make things right with dad. If they could find Toke, they
would’ve by now.”
“How should we do it?” I muttered around the last of the ice.
“We should wait until there’s just one guy here,” she said. “Sooner or later, they’ll have to go get groceries or something. That’s when we’ll move. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I think attacking is too dangerous, unless you’ve got some sort of secret ninja skills I don’t know about. Great job with the whole spitting blood thing, by the way. I’m impressed.”
“We all have to do our part,” I said, feeling pleased with myself. “You’re not half bad as a pickpocket.”
“Had to pay for college somehow,” she replied piously. “I don’t believe in student loans.” “You’re a nutjob.”
“Probably,” she said, mustering a grin. “But everything I have, I own free and clear.”
“Yeah, me, too,” I said. “Couldn’t get a credit card to save my life. Apparently unemployed single moms are a bad risk.”
“Speaking of, I have Hunter’s now,” she said, grinning. “I lifted his wallet while you were talking
on the phone with Ruger. No idea if it’ll be useful, but it’s better than nothing.”
I sobered.
“Okay, first thing—you need to stop picking his pocket,” I told her. “He’s gonna figure it out. He almost did when you got the knife.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right about that one,” she said, sighing. “So here’s my thought. I want to split up. More chance that one of us will get away and bring help. We wait until one of the guys
leaves, then I’ll go out the front of the house and you’ll go out the back. Whoever’s left can’t chase us both. Hell, maybe we’ll get lucky and he won’t even notice us leaving.”
“What if Hunter and Skid aren’t the only guys here?”
“Well, then I guess they’ll probably catch us again,” she said seriously. “It’s a risk, because they’ll punish us. This isn’t a game. But we can’t just sit here and hope this all works out—realistically, it’s not gonna be easy for the club to find us.”
“I thought you said Hunter wouldn’t hurt you?” I asked.
“I don’t think he will,” she said. “But Skid’s different. Dad will find us sooner or later, but I’d just as soon we’re alive when it happens. I don’t want to get dumped in a ditch somewhere just because
Toke’s an idiot.”
My breath caught.
“I don’t want to get dumped in a ditch, either.”
“So we just won’t get caught,” she told me, offering a grin. “Should be easy, right?” “Did I mention you’re a nutjob?”
“I get it from my dad.”