Strider’s Misstep (Mayhem Makers: Wretched Soulz MC)

Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

JASMINE

C oming to, I find my hands tied painfully behind me, thin plastic digging into my skin. The soreness of my wrists is competing with the pounding in my head. Focusing my eyes, I see Helo looking far more awake than me and brighter than she should be as she shakes out her free hands.

“How did…?” Surely they tied her just as tight as me.

She snorts softly. “It was one of our regular pastimes in the Night Stalkers. Who could get out of zip ties the fastest.” As I redouble my efforts, she shakes her head. “No, you’ll hurt yourself. You have to be prepared from the start and tense your muscles just so when they put them on. I’ll get yours off you in a moment.”

Still feeling woozy, wondering how she could have shaken the effects of whatever they’d injected us with so fast, I can only watch as she stealthily moves around what appears to be some kind of basement they’ve imprisoned us in. There’s a chest of drawers that she goes through, tutting when she can find nothing to help. I hear a smashing, see her tense, turn, and regard the door, then relax when no sound can be heard.

She comes over to me. “Got a piece of glass that should work.”

I don’t even grunt when a jagged edge cuts into me. I just want my hands untied now . I let out a gasp of relief as the hard plastic binding my wrists falls away.

“Sorry I nicked you.”

Shrugging, I tell her, “You got me free.” I see her grinning, and ask, “What?”

“You’re a real prez’s old lady, aren’t you?”

Vigorously, I shake my head. “I’m nothing to Strider.” I try, but I can’t say the words he’s nothing to me.

She cocks her head strangely, but whatever she’s about to say remains unsaid as footsteps sound. Flinging herself to the position I first saw her in, she pulls her hands behind her back. As she beckons to me, I do the same.

The door opens. I catch my breath as a man all too familiar comes into sight. No, this can’t be happening again.

Ignoring Helo, the man stops in front of me. While waiting for him to say something, I notice another man, heavily armed, standing just inside the door. “Katrina,” he purrs. “We meet again. I can’t wait until we can get properly reacquainted.”

He’s one of Barclay’s minions who raped me time and time again, never caring how much he hurt me. I try to keep hold of my sanity, from drowning in despair, fighting to think rationally. He said he can’t wait. In the past, he’d just take what he wanted. There must be a reason he’s not reaching for me immediately.

Trying to put strength into my voice, I ask, “Where’s Barclay?”

He snorts. “He wanted to be here to greet you, but he had another prior meeting he couldn’t get out of. Don’t worry. He’ll be here as soon as he can. And I, for one, can’t wait to see your reunion.” He gets closer, so near I can smell his fetid breath, and my stomach churns, remembering the feeling of him on top of me. “You’ve been a fucking naughty girl, but the boss is aware of your tricks now. You’re going to get what’s coming. I know how much he’s been looking forward to this.”

I really hope I can’t guess what he’s talking about, but I take some comfort that Barclay’s not here right now, and I’ve got time. What this raping brute doesn’t know is that both Helo’s and my hands are unbound and that my companion herself is my secret weapon. Maybe I’m building up her skills in my mind, but I think she’s more than a match for them, well, as long as she’s not looking down the barrel of a gun.

He’s still smirking. “I’ll just leave you… ladies… to yourselves. Barclay will be here in the morning.” He turns and goes, followed by the guard. It’s impossible not to hear the key in the lock turning.

My strength leaves me, and I curl into myself, unable to stop shaking. My nightmare has come true. I’ve fucked up and now Barclay’s found me.

“Stop panicking, woman,” Helo snaps a few seconds after the door closes. “The Wretched Soulz will be looking for us. And even if they don’t find us, we’re not poor defenceless women.”

Speak for yourself. I might have grown in confidence with Strider wanting me exclusively and giving me some position in the clubhouse, but now, faced with my past, I’m back to the feeble woman controlled by her husband and in abject terror at the thought of seeing him again.

She speaks patiently, as though to a child. “There are weapons here. We’ve just got to find them.”

I’m out of my depth, but as Helo stands and starts moving around, kicking the hell out of one of the drawers and triumphantly holding up a dangerous-looking piece of wood when she’s finished, I start to catch on.

Standing, telling myself I’d rather die fighting than let Barclay put his hands on me again, I, too, start to look at my surroundings, trying to see as though I was looking through Helo’s eyes. I find a shard from the glass she’d broken earlier, and while I’m not sure if I could stab another human being, I harden myself, knowing I would do anything to stop myself from being raped again.

After a while, we’ve gathered and hidden a few weapons we could use, and I’m feeling stronger. Thank fuck she’s here with me. I’d be nothing if I was here by myself.

I don’t know what time it is. It had been around three in the afternoon when we were taken, but how long the drugs kept us out is hard to estimate. We’ve got all night until Barclay makes an appearance, but there’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep.

Helo leans up against the wall and regards me in the dim light from the small bulb that’s been left glowing.

“Do you know the full story about Strider’s wife?”

Grimacing, I reply, “Yeah. She’s the love of his life who he’s having to watch slowly die.”

“And you know she never wanted to have anything to do with the biker life?”

I nod my reply.

“Chaz and Strider were close from way back in the day,” she begins. “Strider found in Chaz someone he could confide in, talk to him about shit that even his closest brothers didn’t know.” She glances at me to see if I’m paying attention. “Childhood sweethearts don’t always make great partners for life, and sometimes they develop different wants and needs. Even before Strider got out of the service and joined the club, he was addicted to motorcycles. Anna wanted nothing to do with it.”

“He’s told me that,” I interrupt.

She raises and dips her chin. “But have you thought what him joining the club really meant? He put his wants and needs above his love for her. Does that tell you anything about the state of their relationship at the time?”

“Anna could already have been ill and acting out of character.”

“They married directly from high school, and then Strider was away for eight years being a Marine. I’ve seen it time and time again in the service. Marriage quite often doesn’t survive, especially when kids who marry young mature into adults.” She glances to see if I’m taking it all in. “Strider was about to divorce her when he realised things were wrong.” She pauses, swallows, her brow furrows and she shakes her head. “During the diagnosis, he asked the question and got the answer that a TBI, traumatic brain injury, could be the cause of Picks Disease. From that moment on, he decided the accident he’d had the one and only time she went on his bike was the reason why she got ill and became consumed with guilt.”

“Do you think he’s right?”

Helo shrugs. “Who knows? There’s much the doctors don’t know about how the brain works. She could have been born with the time bomb already inside her head, or, yes, it could have been the injury when she fell off the bike. Whatever. Strider felt such guilt that he might have caused what happened to her that he took it upon himself to always be there for her. But that’s not the same thing as love. You hearing me now?”

I’m hearing her. I’m listening. I still believe, though, that Strider’s actions seemed to say something different. “He took me to see her. To show me why we could never be a thing.”

“He took you to see her, to show you how he, too, was suffering. And needed you to wait for him.”

Shaking my head, I tell her, “I’m not hanging around until his beloved wife dies, and then play second fiddle.”

For a moment, her eyes simply focus on mine, and then she tells me, “Firstly, Anna died a couple of weeks back. And secondly, you’re no substitute. From the way Strider’s been in pieces since he couldn’t find out where you’d gone, shows he’s a man who’s fucking head and tails in love. With you. Not her.”

Anna’s dead?

I’ve been taking it on trust that she’s only here because she read my books and enjoyed them. I narrow my eyes. She seems to know a lot about Strider and what he’s been like since I left. “Just why did you want to come to the signing?”

I think she can see by my expression that I’m not going to accept any half-truths or lies. As the corners of her lips curve upward, she says, “Strider’s been searching for you. He knows exactly who you are. And he still wants you. ”

My jaw drops. How could he? I never gave him any clue to suggest I wasn’t Jasmine Smart. Shaking my head, I refute it. “He can’t know.” My voice is just a whisper.

She grins. “He knows you’re Katrina Aster and that you’re still married. It did take a while to find out the details, but the essence you told him yourself. You wrote it all down.”

I bang the heel of my hand against my forehead. I’ve known Strider had read my book and realised I’d written about him, as prez, me as the club girl, and the relationship I’d always dreamed of. As for the rest of the story, I’d thought it so incredible that no one would believe there was any truth behind it.

“He’s been so worried,” she continues. “That’s why I thought I’d volunteer to be part of your protection. Which is why I’m here now.” She glances down, then up at me again. “Chaz counts him among his closest friends, and fate hasn’t treated him kindly.”

“Whoa. Back up a moment. Protection? Why did anyone think I needed protection?”

Patiently, as though speaking to a child, she explains, “Because if the Soulz could find out you’re really Katrina Aster née James, then Barclay with all of his connections would likewise know where to find you.” She pauses, then says with emphasis, “At the signing you decided to attend.”

Lowering my head into my hands, I realise I really haven’t been as clever as I thought I was. “I used my grandmother’s maiden name.”

Raising her chin, she agrees, “That was the key to finding you.”

I shake my head and say with feeling, “Shit.” Then I realise while this kidnapping had come to me as a complete surprise, my companion had come along today knowing the risk something like this was going to happen. “I don’t know why you would put yourself in danger if you knew there was a chance Barclay had found out where I’d be and come for me. What the fuck were you thinking?”

She bristles now. “Girl, do you hear what you just said to me?”

“You could have been killed!”

“I could have died many times before, but I haven’t. You’re important to Strider, which means you’re important to all the Soulz. There was no point putting a brother on you. They’d have been killed, not brought along. But a woman? Yeah, Barclay’s played right into my hands. As soon as they saw another female, they wanted me. Even with my small tits,” she ends with a laugh.

I burst into a chuckle. “But a fine ass.”

She does a body shimmer and giggles. “A girl’s got to work with whatever she has.”

Soberness comes over me. “I still can’t understand why Chaz would put you in danger.”

“Chaz doesn’t ‘put’ me in anything. And facing someone like your ex is child’s play, considering all the other risks I’ve taken.” Grimacing slightly, she admits, “And then I let my guard down. Just before you needed that comfort break, I got a text saying Barclay was out of the picture, in front of a judge. So I stupidly thought it was unlikely he’d try anything.”

Again, my mouth drops open. Hope floods into me. Has the legal system really caught up with him? “Will he go down?”

She throws cold water on that immediately and rolls her eyes. “Unlikely. He’s got good connections to the judge.”

“I’m sorry.” Suddenly, the words flow out of me. “You shouldn’t be here. This is all on me, on my head. I should never have thought I’d have anonymity while attending the signing.” Rubbing my hands over my face, I continue, “I was so damn stupid. I let the success of my books run away with me.”

Helo approaches, her features set. “Jasmine. You’ve built yourself an incredible career. I’m not a reader, but the minute I picked up your first book, I was truly drawn into it. It’s Barclay who’s got no right to interfere. And it’s him who’s going down.”

Her fierceness and the forceful delivery of her words start me thinking that maybe there’s a way to get out of this. I’m terrified, yes. Dreading seeing Barclay again, but I’m not alone, and there’s no one else I’d rather have beside me.

Except for the whole charter of the Wretched Soulz, of course.

If I’d been alone, I’d be going crazy. “Why did you let yourself get captured along with me? Couldn’t you have gotten away yourself?”

Helo sits on the floor beside me, lays back, and puts her hands behind her head. “I had a split second to make a decision. Yeah, I could have disarmed that man easily, but there was a risk that there were more of them outside. If they saw me as a threat, they could have disposed of me and taken you. Thought you had more of a chance if I stuck with you.” She’s certainly not wrong there. She changes the subject. “Reckon we should try to get some rest. I estimate it’s around midnight, and we’ve got a few hours before Barclay’s likely to make it here.”

I suppose she’s got a point. I’ve still got a dull headache from whatever drug I was given. Beneath my ass, the floor is cold, hard and unyielding, but dutifully, copying my companion, I lie myself down and then sit back up. Helo seems as relaxed as though she was lying on a five-star mattress.

At my restlessness, Helo opens her eyes and raises her brow quizzically.

“The floor’s too hard.”

She snorts. “Believe me, it’s luxury compared to some of the places I’ve slept in. I was held hostage for six months. The ground I slept on was rocky desert.”

My hand covers my mouth.

Her face softens. “I, too, was raped. We’ve got more in common than you think, Jasmine.” Her tone becomes firmer. “And we both survived.”

Personally, I don’t think there’s too much common ground between us. She’s a real-life hero for a start. Her approach to our situation makes me feel ashamed. So as she lies back down, I do likewise, curling myself into a fetal position, trying to make belief I’m lying on something soft rather than this hard ground.

I try not to toss and turn so as not to disturb her, and at some point, I must fall asleep.

I’m woken abruptly by a sound at the door. First thing I notice is that Helo’s woken before me and has taken position standing by the entrance to the basement. She’s unarmed, as far as I can tell.

Footsteps sound. Helo hisses, “Put your hands behind your back.”

I’ve only a moment to do as she says when the door creaks open, and I freeze. It’s been three years since I last saw my husband, and I hoped I’d never see him again. I’d become too complacent, thinking he was a distant memory. But here he is now, and my first inclination is to vomit.

He saunters into the basement as if he owns the place, which he probably does. Only one guard accompanies him. Well, why would he need more? I’ve never put up a fight in my life, despite the times he’d hurt me. I now wonder why I’d been so compliant. If I’d fought back, I’d have died. But might that have been better than letting his men use me?

I’m not going back. I’m not going to do that again. I won’t let my father’s sacrifice be in vain.

I realise my heart’s pounding and I’m breathing too fast when Helo says softly, “Relax, Jasmine.”

Barclay stops in front of me. He spares a quick glance at my companion standing by the door, looking like her hands are still bound behind her, then dismisses her and returns his attention to me. He stares at me for a moment, looking me up and down, then sneers. “Christ, you’ve let yourself go.”

I’m dressed as an author who writes MC romance—a tee shirt with a Harley on it, jeans and boots. I thought I looked cute, though, obviously not to him.

“And you’re just a picture of health,” I snarkily respond, knowing I shouldn’t anger him but wanting to point out that he’s not exactly a catch with his alcohol-flushed cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

My response gets a sharp kick to my leg, and it takes all I have to keep my hands clasped behind me and only do so as I’ve locked my fingers together.

“You have no idea how much I hate you. Always hated you, in fact. There’s nothing about you that redeems the woman you are. You’re an ugly bitch.” He pauses and waits for a reaction, but I give him none. Words are just that and can’t hurt me. If he thinks I’ll be offended by his summation of me, then he’s wrong. I don’t give a damn. He sucks in a breath and suddenly screams at me. “You were always useless.” He spits at me now, and I only just manage to turn my face in time. “You couldn’t even give me a kid.”

“Maybe it wasn’t me who was lacking.” I shouldn’t enrage him. I’ve never stood up to him before. But somehow, knowing Helo’s a hero makes me want to be strong.

He rears back. “I’ve gotten women pregnant,” he snarls.

Oh yeah, only a monster would be proud of that. “Then you don’t need me to produce an heir.”

He gives a skeletal grin. “But they weren’t my wife. They either got rid of it or died.” He regards me for a moment. “But you’re right. I can find a more suitable woman to continue my bloodline. I don’t need you pregnant or even alive. It’s far better for me if you’re dead. I’ll get your inheritance left by your dear old dad.”

His manner of speaking is chilling, but knowing how wrong he is, I can’t help but snort. “My father had no money. He couldn’t give you more when he died.”

Barclay smiles that demonic smile again. “Have you never heard the term asset rich, cash poor?” For a moment, he almost looks sympathetic. “He had nothing to give me while he was alive, but what he left to you were all his buildings and businesses. More than enough to cover his debt.” Now he’s back to sneering. “You’re a rich woman, and you don’t even realise it. You spend your life whoring yourself out to bikers and writing smut to survive.”

“It’s not smut,” I snarl while realising that’s the least of things that should concern me.

He pinches the brow of his nose, looks like he’s thinking for a moment, then cheerily says, “I’ll be doing you a favour, letting you do some research. May even get new material.” His mirth disappears. “Such a shame you won’t be able to use it, but my men will enjoy fucking the life out of you. Take a good look around, as this is going to be the last place you’ll ever see.”

I take a step back. I knew what fate was in store for me as soon as my husband appeared, but I thought I’d have time, maybe even escape again, or have time so that the Wretched Soulz would come looking for us. Even if Strider doesn’t care about me, Chaz will come for Helo. Should I plead, beg for time, throw myself on his mercy? But he had none for me last time. And to him, money is worth far more than me.

He sneers at the distress that must be showing on my face, then moves his attention to Helo. “Didn’t expect any collateral benefits from reclaiming my wife. You? You’re definitely lacking in some areas, but I’m sure to find a market for you somewhere. I suspect my men would like to try you out.”

Helo’s completely still. She doesn’t so much as flinch at his appraisal. Her non-reaction catches him unaware.

“Come here,” he barks. “Let me get a good look at you.”

Helo had stayed quiet while he was berating me, but she’d obviously been summing him up. I could have told her Barclay always goes unarmed, letting others do his dirty work for him, but she’s obviously worked that out for herself. She obediently moves forward awkwardly, with her hands still held behind her back. But once close enough, she stops the pretence and turns into a whirling dervish of arms, legs and body, throwing herself at his bodyguard. The man is unarmed and unconscious before I can blink. And Barclay? Well, she’s got him held tight and captive before he can scream, with her hand over his mouth.

“You want to go through a divorce or want me to take care of him now?”

I don’t want to breathe the same air. I swallow a couple of times, wondering whether this woman is really me. Then realise I’d become hardened when my father took his life in front of me. If Barclay had been someone different, someone kind and caring as Dad originally thought he would be, I’d still have one parent alive. Barclay deserves no mercy from me. “Take care of him.”

The speed in which she twists his neck, killing him without second thought, startles me. But I’ve no emotion other than elation when the man who tortured me, who promised me more suffering, falls dead at my feet.

She’s totally unemotional when she turns to me. “Now, we’ve got to get out of here.”

But Barclay’s dead. Surely my nightmare is over? I’m now a free woman.

My brain rattles in my head as she shakes me. “Come on, Jasmine. Barclay’s got men upstairs. You think they won’t want to avenge his death and get some compensation for the loss of their pay ticket and boss?”

Her actions and words bring me to my senses.

We might have felled a major tree, but we’re certainly not out of the woods yet. I swallow, straighten my back, and get ready to fight.