Wild Marauders MC: Lynch Part 19

I barely gave him a look, slipping off my stool. "That was Fat Boy, looks like Chicken has taken Kat. Call Miles at the sheriff's office. Tell him to put out a search for her car, possible abduction." Miles was on our payroll to handle 'special' jobs. We were heading to my office, where I kept a file on everyone connected to the club.

"Official?"

"Unofficial," I snapped. "If Chicken has her I want to deal with him myself. Make sure you tell Miles that."

We'd reached my office and I went directly to the file cabinet behind my desk. Kat's file would have her license number. Why the f.u.c.k hadn't I had a GPS tracker installed on her car a long time ago? Because the truth was that until a couple days ago I hadn't wanted to admit that she was in my life, that's why.

"Any idea where he might take her?"

I stopped and looked at Lenny. s.h.i.+t. Had Chicken sold us out? Was he taking Kat to Wildman? Thoughts hopped around in my head like the f.u.c.kin' pieces of a puzzle that wouldn't line up. Grabbing Kat's file, I slammed the drawer shut with enough force to make the whole cabinet shake. I fisted my hands, crumbling the file in the process.

"Easy, Lynch." Lenny put a hand on my shoulder, his other taking the folder out of my grasp. "We'll get her back."

I released a deep breath and fought to compose myself. Going off in a blind rage wouldn't help anything, but I wanted to explode. I wanted to hurt someone. I wouldn't allow myself to even consider that anything bad had happened to Kat. I knew that she was strong, and she was a fighter. Fat Boy, Snake, and Bullseye walked into the room then, drawing our attention.

I narrowed my eyes on Fat Boy. "Who did you f.u.c.kin' talk to at the clinic?"

"Stella saw us come in and she came over to find out what we wanted."

Stella. I reached for my cell and scrolled through the contacts until I found what I was searching for. I hit the number and glanced up in time to see Lenny step out of the room, probably to call Miles.

The phone rang three times before being picked up. "Hey, doc." Dr. Putter was a friend of the club and we only used him when Dr. Carr wasn't available, and only then in cases of emergency.

"Lynch? It's been a while. What can I help you with?"

"Quick question, did you have a staff meeting at 7:30 this morning?"

"Staff meeting?"

The sound of confusion in his voice told me all that I needed to know. "Never mind." I hung up and ran my hand over my face. Stella was involved. The b.i.t.c.h hadn't known that I'd been with Kat the night before when she'd called informing Kat of an early morning meeting. I was glad that Stella wasn't in front of me in that moment, because my hands itched to close around her conniving neck.

Lenny walked back into the room. "Miles has a contact with the highway patrol that's going to keep watch on the interstate, too."

"We need to get Stella "

"Stella? I just saw her walk into the bar while I was outside making a"

I was out of my chair before Lenny could finish his sentence, and reaching the bar within seconds. It was early still, so the place was fairly empty. My gaze found Stella sitting at the bar with Lola. Lola saw me approaching before Stella did, and the look on my face must have frightened her because she immediately took off. I took hold of Stella's arm and swung her around on her stool.

"Where the f.u.c.k is Kat?" I snarled.

The expression on her face revealed surprise and alarm. "I"

"I know you've got something to do with her disappearance." I squeezed her arm, uncaring that I was hurting her. "I was with Kat last night when you f.u.c.kin' called." I lowered my face into hers and growled, "There was no meeting, b.i.t.c.h. Now where the f.u.c.k is she?" I jerked her off her stool.

"I made a mistake." Her voice wobbled, but I was certain that it was an act.

"No"

"Lynch"

"Back off!" I snapped at Lenny, ignoring his attempt to calm me down. "She f.u.c.kin' lied to get Kat into work early this morning, and Chicken took her!"

Fat Boy spoke up, directing his comment to Lenny. "We found his bike parked behind the dumpster at the clinic, and Kat's car's gone."

"f.u.c.k," Lenny said, obviously realizing the significance of that information.

"Okay!" Stella cried out in a teary voice, drawing everyone's attention to her. "I did lie! But it was just to get Kat in early so we could talk privately."

I watched the tears fall down her cheeks, narrowing my eyes. I wasn't ready to believe her s.h.i.+t. "Talk about what?" I said the words through my teeth.

"You! We talked about you," Stella sobbed. "I'm pregnant, Lynch, and the baby is yours."

What the f.u.c.k? "Bulls.h.i.+t," I snarled in her face, breathing through my nose like an angry bull. "We used a condom," I ground out. There was no way in h.e.l.l I was going to believe her. She sounded too desperate, and I knew how badly she wanted to become my old lady.

"It's true, Lynch," she insisted, sniffling. "And condoms have been known to fail."

I shook my head, glancing up at Lenny. "I'm not listening to any more of her f.u.c.kin' lies. Have a sweetb.u.t.t go to the store and get a f.u.c.kin' pregnancy test." I glared back at Stella. "You better hope that you're f.u.c.kin' pregnant, because if you're not, I'll be back, and trust me when I say you won't like me."

I couldn't stand to look at the lying b.i.t.c.h after that. I didn't want to be in the same room with her, afraid of what I'd do. She wasn't pregnant, and if she were, the father could be any one of ten different guys. If it turned out that she wasn't lying and a paternity test proved that I was the father then I'd deal with that when the time came. But it wouldn't be in the way that she was expecting.

f.u.c.k!

f.u.c.k!

f.u.c.k!

I needed to be out looking for Kat. I wanted to get on my f.u.c.kin' bike and ride, do something to find her. Frustration caused me to punch a hole in the wall.

"We'll find her, prez."

I turned my head toward Lenny and nodded, unable to speak.

Kat I wasn't sure how I managed to fall asleep, but I did. The sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires woke me. The car came to a stop, and I could hear voices outside. I held my breath and strained to hear what was being said, but the sound was too m.u.f.fled. They were men though, I could tell by their deep tones.

Sensing that the trunk was about to be opened, I reached up and made sure that the box cutter was snug where I'd hidden it in my bra. I heard them come to the back of the car, and then I was looking up at a starry sky and the faces of three scary looking bikers.

"Well, well. I'd heard Lynch's old lady was a beauty," one of the men said, smiling down at me. He was tall and lean, but his strength was obvious in the definition of his bare arms. "The face that's gonna take out the Wild Marauders."

"You can have her." Chicken pulled me up and out of the trunk roughly. "I expect extra for bringing her all this way. It wasn't part of the f.u.c.kin' deal."

"You'll get what you f.u.c.kin' deserve," said the heavyset biker. He looked like a big grizzly bear with long thick hair and a braided beard. "Wildman said to make sure of that."

I didn't like the way that he and the other man laughed. It reeked of insincerity and gave me chills. It was as though they knew something that no one else knew. It didn't seem to bother Chicken though, as he pushed me toward them. It was obvious that he was focused on getting rid of me and getting out of there.

"Did you tell anyone where you were bringing her?"

Chicken shook his head. "Not even my sister."

"Good," said the big man, shaking his head. "Good. Here's your bonus."

He raised his arm and I saw something flash, right before he buried a knife in Chicken's belly. My scream was cut short when the other man grabbed me and covered my mouth with his gloved hand. I squirmed against him, watching helplessly as Chicken was killed in a gruesome way, a slow, steady stream of blood pouring out of the hole in his gut. It all happened so fast that he fell to his knees with a look of stunned surprise on his face, the knife was sharply pulled out of his chest by one of the men, and then Chicken keeled over.

My heart was pounding so fast that I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I couldn't seem to suck enough air into my lungs as I clawed at the hand over my mouth. The man wrapped an arm around my waist and secured me against him, until exhaustion and shock took over and I went limp.

"Put him in the trunk and dump the car in the lake. I'll deliver our pretty package to Wildman and Killer and meet you back at the bar," he said over my head.

I watched Chicken's body picked up and dumped into the trunk as though he were nothing more than garbage. Then my car was driven away.

"Woowee, Rebel, she's purty."

I followed the sound of the voice and nearly had my second heart attack. At least six bikers were sitting on their bikes, just watching and waiting in the shadow of the building that they were parked by. I hadn't noticed them before. Dark surrounded us, there no street lights of any kind. I could tell that we were at an old gas station that appeared to have been closed down for years. The windows were boarded up. What landscaping there'd been was overgrown and unkempt.

"We gonna get a taste of that p.u.s.s.y before we give her to Wildman and Killer?" the same man asked.

"If you f.u.c.kin' want it to be the last p.u.s.s.y you ever have," Rebel responded.

Wildman. I vaguely remembered hearing his name mentioned during the attack at my apartment, but Killer was one that I'd never heard before. I began to suspect that Chicken had brought me to a rival MC. The man holding me removed his hand from my mouth and began to push me toward a parked truck.

"You don't have to do this." For some reason I sensed a reluctance in this man, as if he weren't completely on board with what he was doing. Woman's intuition, maybe? When he'd held me while Chicken was being murdered it hadn't been as brutal and degrading as I'd been expecting. "You can let me go." I knew I was pleading, but I didn't care.

"No can do." He opened the pa.s.senger side door. "I want to keep my b.a.l.l.s where they are. Now get in."

I had no choice but to do what he said. Now wasn't the time to try and escape with six bikers on our tail. I had no idea where we were, nothing looked remotely familiar, I was starved, thirsty, and had to use the bathroom again. I took in our surroundings as we drove down a dark road, but could only guess that we were somewhere in the country.

"Can you at least tell me where we are? I've been in a f.u.c.king trunk all day."

"New Hamps.h.i.+re."

I lay my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. New Hamps.h.i.+re. What was in New Hamps.h.i.+re? "What's going to happen to me?"

"That's up to Wildman."

I s.h.i.+vered. "You're going to turn me over to someone with the name 'Wildman?'"

He shrugged, giving me a quick look as he turned the engine over. "Either him or Killer."

"Killer? Well, that's even better." My sarcastic tone wouldn't get me anywhere, but the day's events were starting to sink in, revealing how hopeless my situation really was. The only thing that kept me going was knowing that Lynch would be looking for me.

He didn't say anything. As we drove down a dark road I could hear the bikers following us. It was easy to tell from the shadowed landscape we pa.s.sed that we were in the country. Once in a while we pa.s.sed a house and farm, and on one occasion a small country store. My belly growled as if it knew that we'd just pa.s.sed a source of food.

Rebel made a movement that drew my attention back to him. He opened up a middle console, and I could see him withdraw something from it. I couldn't tell what it was in the darkness of the cab, but when he thrust a bottle of water and a package of crackers at me I let out a heavy sigh of relief. He must have heard my stomach rumble.

"Thank you," I said in a low tone, too hungry and thirsty to throw it back at him. I didn't want to accept anything from them, but I had no idea how long I'd be held captive, so I decided that refusing any food or water would be a stupid mistake.

Again, Rebel said nothing. I tore open the package, which turned out to be peanut b.u.t.ter and crackers, eating a couple squares before taking a drink. I wasn't a huge fan of peanut b.u.t.ter, but I scarfed it down as though it tasted like succulent lobster soaked in b.u.t.ter, thankful for the protein. In about ten minutes all of the crackers were gone, and I felt much better.

Except now I really had to use the bathroom.

"I have to go," I said.

"We're almost there."

Oh. In a matter of minutes we pulled into a trailer park. At the entrance there was a large building with the lights on, few windows, and a neon sign flas.h.i.+ng on top that read, 'Wet w.i.l.l.i.e.s'. Rebel pulled into the parking lot and came to a stop at the end of a row of motorcycles.

He turned off the engine. "Get out."

My first thought after he exited the vehicle was to stay inside and lock all of the doors and refuse to get out, but what would that gain me, other than possibly abuse at their hands? My anxiety level began to rise when I forced myself to do what Rebel ordered. I shut the door, ignoring the bikers pulling up besides us. Thoughts of what awaited me inside the bar almost made me lose the insubstantial contents of my stomach.

I took several deep breaths, releasing them slowly, but it did nothing to calm my nerves. When Rebel opened the door and waited for me to precede him, I stood back, unable to take the step that would lead me into the chaos and loud music coming from inside the building. I reluctantly met his indifferent gaze.

"Do what you're told and you might get through this." His comment was anything but encouraging.

Before I could make the decision for myself, one of the bikers moved up behind me and b.u.t.ted me through the open doorway with a hard movement from his hips. Laughter followed as I shrugged off Rebel's steadying hands.

"Don't touch me!" I hissed to the biker before I could think. I was shaking so badly, and if I didn't get to a bathroom soon I was going to embarra.s.s myself. "Please," I pleaded in a low tone, looking up at Rebel, "I have to go."

He indicated a small hallway and I looked over to see the restroom signs. I also noticed an exit sign at the end of the hallway. Without waiting I hurried to the ladies room and took care of business. Oh, G.o.d, that had been close! I noticed the window when I exited the stall, but it was too small for anyone to squeeze through. I thought back to the exit door that stood at the end of the hallway. How far could I get before they caught up to me?

I knew that I had to make a run for it. Until now I'd been too cooperative, mostly because I was waiting for the right time to make a move. I had no experience in abduction protocol, but instinct warned me that they might let their guard down if I let them think that I was frightened and subdued. I wasn't faking the frightened part, though, even knowing that Lynch was out there looking for me, The woman staring back at me in the mirror as I washed my hands looked pale, tired, and wrinkled. My hair looked bedroom wild. My blouse, besides being dirty, was torn. Little specks of something on the material, upon closer inspection, turned out to be splatters of blood. Blood? Then I recalled that I'd been close to Chicken when he'd been killed. I shuddered with repulsion.

I jumped at the knock on the door. "Let's go!"

I opened the door with every intention of turning left and das.h.i.+ng out the exit door, but when I turned I ran smack dab into Rebel. d.a.m.n him, he'd known! He grunted at the impact, swung me around and pushed me toward the opposite direction. It all happened so fast that I didn't even have time to react.

The bar was crowded and looked like every other bar I'd been in, plenty of patrons sitting around tables, and bikers. Women were dressed in the skimpiest of outfits, some naked at the poles. The room had a smell of cigarettes, booze, and body odor. I ignored my surroundings as Rebel pushed me in the direction that he wanted.

We came to a halt at a booth in the back. Two men dressed in similar black clothing and biker gear stopped talking and glanced up at us. One man was around fifty, completely bald, and tattooed up with colorful ink. He had so much on his face that it was hard to find his eyes, but I knew that they were there because I could feel his silent appraisal. He was big, but not fat, and creepy. For some reason he made me think of the circus.

The second man was just as scary. His long hair was pulled back into a man bun. He had tattoos too, but they were black lines and images, combined with small gauges in his ears, and piercings in his eye brow and lip. Unlike the other biker, I could see his eyes and expression clearly, and fear chilled my blood at the way he was staring at me. He gave me the impression of a predator. When Lynch looked at me that way it excited me, and it usually ended with us having hot s.e.x, but this man scared the s.h.i.+t out of me. He looked ready to destroy something with his hands, and I sensed evilness about him.

I a.s.sumed this was Killer and Wildman.

"So you're Lynch's woman." Yellowish teeth appeared in a face of blues, reds, and yellows. "What's your name, b.i.t.c.h?"

I had a feeling that he already knew. "Kat."

"He'll come for you," the other man said, reaching forward and running his hand down my lower arm. Rebel's presence behind me prevented me from backing up. "Nice and soft. Lynch is a very lucky man."

My skin was crawling. Because my gaze was focused on the monster who was speaking, I didn't see the rapid movement of the other man until he'd reached for the top opening at my blouse and ripped the fragile material down the front. I heard the b.u.t.tons. .h.i.t the floor and did back up this time, finding my arms grasped from behind to hold me still. I tore out of Rebel's hold, reached across the table, and slapped the laughing man's ugly face.

He jumped from the booth and backhanded me so hard that I would have fallen to the floor if Rebel hadn't caught me. This time he pinned my arms behind my back and gave me a warning jerk. I struggled against him, realizing by the change in mood in the two men at the table that I was in serious trouble.

"I'm about to f.u.c.kin' find out how lucky Lynch is," growled the man who'd slapped me. He pulled the edges of my blouse open and squeezed both of my b.r.e.a.s.t.s until I cried out. His eyes s.h.i.+fted over my head to look at Rebel. "By sticking my c.o.c.k between your legs. Take the b.i.t.c.h to my room."

"Wait a minute"