Stephanie Tyler - Vipers Run

I shivered, from fear, the cold, the cuts . . . and he laughed. Took out the gag and I spat, “You . . . fucker.”

“You crossed my path again, Calla. That’s a sign we weren’t done yet.”

“I won’t stay quiet this time.”

“I know. But you’re not going to have a choice.” He shrugged as he ran a finger over my nipple. “It wasn’t as much fun for me when you weren’t awake. I bet you’re even more of a firecracker in bed these days. Have to be, to catch the eye of one of the Vipers guys.”

He rubbed a hand on his chin as he stared down at his ringing phone. He pressed the screen and I heard, “You got the bitch?”

“She’s ready and willing,” he said.

God no . . . no . . .

I hadn’t realized I’d started screaming until he grabbed the gag and began to stuff it inside my mouth again so I couldn’t say anything, let alone breathe. Because I’d started to panic, hyperventilate . . . and I did the only thing I could think of. I head-butted him, hard. He looked stunned the first time, and I did it twice more before I passed out.

When I woke again, we weren’t in the woods. I was lying on a table in a place that looked a little bit like the Vipers clubhouse, but the wood paneling was darker. I was on a hard, raised surface—it took me a second to realize it was a pool table. And it was far too quiet.

“Place is soundproofed,” Jeffrey told me. My head jerked toward the dark corner and the sound of his voice. Had he just been sitting there watching me? “You’ll make a great present for the Heathens. Especially Troy.”

No. Not Cage’s brother. “You’re a sadistic bastard.”

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

I swallowed hard. Stared at the ceiling instead of him. “Why?”

“Really? That’s what you want to know?”

“Yes. I get why now, why here. Your symbolism’s not exactly original, but I’d expect that from someone whose family had to buy him into private school.” I heard a snarl, knew I was pushing my luck, but didn’t care. “How many other girls have you done this to? How many women?”

“More than I can count, but none of them were like you. You were really special, Calla. My first. They say you never forget your first.”

“You fucking bastard.”

“It’ll be nice to have you awake for the whole thing. I’ll film it this time, and once the Heathens have their way with you . . .”

God, he’d let them kill me. Or was I supposed to beg for my life?

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Cage will find you, Jeffrey. I can’t feel sorry for myself knowing what he’ll do to you when he finds you.”

I thought I saw him pale slightly, but maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part. I heard the bikes pull up—Heathen bikes—and when I looked back up at Jeffrey, he was smiling.

* * *

I closed my eyes when I heard the doors slam open and the rough voices began to yell. God, this couldn’t be happening. I kept my eyes closed even after I heard fighting, because if I didn’t look, none of this would be real.

It was only when I felt a familiar, rough touch on my cheek and heard his voice murmur, “Calla, baby, I’m here,” that I opened my eyes to see him.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” I told him.

But Cage shook his head, even as he shrugged his jacket off to cover me.

“I’m just happy to see you.” His eyes were wet, his voice hoarse, and I felt someone working the ropes on both my arms and legs. He touched my face again.

“You . . . the Heathens . . .”

“We stopped them at the bottom of the hill. Rode their bikes up to surprise Harris. Thank God we found you in time.”

“Thank you.”

“Jesus.” He touched my bruised forehead and then my lips and my neck and I realized he was making the sign of the cross over me, blessing me.

“I want to walk out of here,” I told him when I was untied. He gave me his T-shirt to put on, wrapped blankets around me, slid his jacket on over everything.

Rocco was by the door and Preacher was there, watching us without watching.

“Where’s Jeffrey?” I asked.

“He’s here,” Cage told me. “Eli, can you take Calla to the truck? Connor’s there waiting.”

Cage kissed me; then Eli came to my side. I didn’t understand why until Cage moved away and I heard Jeffrey Harris’s scream, almost a howl. I met Eli’s eyes and he nodded. As he led me away I looked over my shoulder. Rally and Preacher were holding Jeffrey for Cage, and although I didn’t see everything, I knew what the blood between Harris’s legs meant.

He’d never do this to another woman. He’d never haunt me again. This was justice. And the police were nowhere to be found.

I thought about all of that as I let a boy who was more of a man than Harris would ever be lead me to the safety of a waiting truck. Connor, from the backseat, said, “Preacher said to go to the clubhouse. They’ll meet us there. Cops are on their way.”

Eli pulled away and I said, “Wait—you’re not—”

“Not old enough to drive? I’ve got a license,” he said, like that was all that mattered.

I was so grateful to be safe, I didn’t care. He’d turned up the heat because I was shivering, then said, “Cage is right behind us, okay? He’ll come to you as soon as he can.”

“He saved me,” I whispered.

“Yeah, he did.”

“Again.”

“He’s good at that.” He grabbed another blanket from Connor and handed it to me. As I spread it over my legs, he said, “You’re going to be okay, Calla.”

“So are you,” I told him, and his expression tightened. “He won’t let you go back.”

“Cage might not have a choice.”

“Cage always has a choice.”

* * *

Sometimes, knives were far more effective than money or power. Cage stood over Harris’s crumpled body as the man sobbed.

Harris would die here. Calla’s file would be anonymously sent to the FBI with her name redacted. They would also get pictures of what he’d done to her—two of them, because that’s all he could stand to let Preacher snap before he ran in to rescue her.

Thank God for Holly . . . and for Detective Flores. When he’d figured out where Calla was, Cage had sent Flores on a wild-goose chase, because she’d have simply taken Harris into custody. And that wasn’t nearly good enough for him.

“That one’s for Calla. The next one, that’s for Eli. And the last one will be for me,” Cage growled, his hand curled around the knife. He wiped it on the grass next to Harris’s face and he forced the man to look at him. “Rot in hell, motherfucker.”

And then he walked out of the Heathens clubhouse and away from any guilt, because for this, he had none.

“Now what?” Preacher asked.

“I’m resisting the urge to find the other two who hurt her,” Cage said, with a barely suppressed fury. He never liked being this angry when he had a job to do, but this was far too personal not to be. “But first, let’s finish what we started with the others.”

“Let me, Cage.”

“They’re my problem, Preach.”

“I know. But let me.” With a hand on Cage’s shoulder, Preacher said, “Go to your woman. Tell her she’s free. Tell Eli he’s free. Tell him that with a clear conscience.”

Rocco watched the exchange. “I’ll drive you, Cage. Rally and Tals will help Preacher.”

The Heathens, including Cage’s father and Troy and the others who were going to hurt Calla, were tied up at the bottom of the hill. Five men who wouldn’t be alive come morning.

He grabbed Preacher in a one-armed hug and let Rocco bring him to the rest of his family.

There would be too many questions at the ER, and although I didn’t want to be at the clubhouse, I knew it was the best place to be. Because the police would come here soon, and they’d see what happened to me. They’d put two and two together, but I wouldn’t admit to anything, because no matter what I said, it would indict the man I loved.

Holly helped me shower, got me dressed and settled me onto the couch. She gave me something to calm my nerves and wrapped me in blankets. I couldn’t stop shaking, and I knew I was in a little bit of shock, but that would wear off when I saw Cage come in, safe and sound.

After an hour, Cage came in. He kissed me, then went to shower, as did Rocco. When he came back to me, he was dressed in clean clothes. We were all sitting there watching a movie when the police cars came to the clubhouse, with Officer Flores coming to check on me.

I was bruised, but calm. I told her that someone dragged me into the woods and tried to assault me, but Holly scared them off. And no, neither of us knew who it was.

Preacher and Rally and Tals came in then, all of them looking clean and fresh . . . and reeking of booze. Flores eyed them suspiciously.

“Detective Flores,” Preacher boomed. “Nice of you to join us.”

“I was just leaving. I suppose you have alibis.”

“About six of them,” Preacher agreed.

Flores rolled her eyes.

When she left, I fell asleep in Cage’s arms. When I awoke, we were all there, in the same spot—Tals and Preacher and Rocco and Eli and Holly—collapsed on the couches, with other members of the MC watching over us from various corners of the clubhouse.

Yes, this place could end up feeling like home after all.

* * *

Detective Flores came back to the clubhouse in the morning. I was sitting outside drinking coffee when she sat down next to me. I tensed, because she had to know what had happened by now.

“Agent Jeffrey Harris is missing.”

“Really?” I sipped my coffee. “That’s a shame.”