Chapter Sixteen
Denver, Colorado
Satan’s Bar
The next day
Elle filled the bucket to the brim, then started to lift it out of the extra kitchen sink, the one used for her cleaning stuff.
“Hey.” Rebel strode over to her, those amazing gold eyes narrowed. “What did I say about trying to move a full bucket of water and chemicals by yourself? Or have you already forgotten about dropping one on your damn foot just last week, and causing a minor flood?”
Elle set it back down in the deep sink with a thunk . “Sorry, Rebel. I thought you were on a break.”
“I was , sweetheart, but I saw you come in here with the big bucket, and I was waiting for you to come and ask one of the boys to help you.” He cocked his blond head at her. “But you didn’t, of course. Stubborn little thing.”
“Yeah, I know.” She sighed, stretched her back and watched as he set the huge metal bucket of water and bleach in front of her. “I should have. I can barely see over the edge of the sink myself, I don’t know why I keep thinking I can lift this thing over and onto the floor safely. I’m still not totally used to asking for help, I guess.”
Rebel studied her, then grinned. “Well. You’d better get used to it, huh? Or one day you’ll try to do something stupid in front of Viking, and you can well imagine how that would go over.”
“Oh, God.” She shut her eyes. “He’d never shut up about it.”
“Truth. Now – how much more cleaning do you have to do before you can go home and pack for the safe house?
“Just the bar. I should be done by now, but I’m way behind my usual schedule.”
“Those back rooms were a disaster area from that bachelor party last night, huh?”
“I’ve never seen them worse,” Elle said. “It took hours to get the shaving cream and baby oil off of everything in sight… why shaving cream was on the ceiling, and baby oil was between the floorboards, I don’t want to know. Also , did you know that glitter doesn’t come up when you mop it? It just sticks to the damn mop, and swirls around and around on the floor. I had to pick up every single piece of the stuff with my fingers.”
Rebel looked at her again, saw her exhaustion. Elle was a damn hard worker, a woman who cooked and cleaned for hours and hours a day, never complaining or taking much of a break. She looked done in today, though, and he smiled at her.
“I’ll do the bar floor, Elle. You go sit down and wait for Viking to come pick you up, OK?”
“Oh, no,” she protested. “I can do it.”
“I know you can , sweetheart,but I’m telling you to go sit that cute little ass down. Go on, now. I got this.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. Make yourself a sweet coffee and go put your feet up. You’re officially clocked out now.”
“Thanks, Rebel,” she said. “I guess I am more tired than I thought.”
“I know.” He put the mop into the scalding hot water and started to roll the bucket out of the kitchen. “Now scoot, girl. Coffee. Feet up. Sitting on cute ass.”
“Yes, boss,” Elle said, snapping him a sassy little salute. “Right away.”
She made her sweet drink, then headed out to the bar. Satan’s was still pretty quiet, but then again, it was just gone four o’clock; she knew that in an hour, it would be bustling and by seven, it would be heaving.
Since Wolf had taken The Road Devils legit, all of the club businesses had become safe options for non-MC people. Now soccer Moms and young guys looking to get their second-hand vehicles checked brought them to The Garage, Blue Dragon Ink had every demographic under the sun coming in for tattoos, and Satan’s attracted everyone from barely-legal college kids to hen parties with women well into their fifties.
And bachelor parties with strippers and glitter. Gah. Stupid glitter .
Elle sighed, looked around at the customers, and chose a table far away from everyone else. She needed a few minutes of peace and thought, because she was still troubled and worried about Violet just up and vanishing the way that she had. She drank her coffee slowly, thinking everything through again. Some more.
She’d known, of course, that Violet had been struggling to acclimate to life outside of the cult, and the fact that Elle still didn’t know the other woman’s real name was a clear sign of that. Everyone had known that she needed help, everyone had tried to show her support and understanding.
Hell, even the glowering, terrifying Wolf had talked to Violet several times, and he’d offered to pay for her to attend private counselling with a woman who was an expert at deprogramming people who had left highly-controlling groups and dynamics. Violet had made all the right noises, said all the right things, but she hadn’t taken Wolf up on his offer, and as Wolf had told Elle, he couldn’t force the woman to get therapy. As he saw it, Violet had to make her own decisions and make her own choices; Wolf wasn’t going to order her to do anything. The second that Violet wanted to reclaim her life on her own terms, she’d have all the backup she could ever need… but she had to make the first move.
Except now she’d run away, and Elle’s biggest fear was that she’d fallen smack into the slimy clutches of some other cult. Elle suspected that it would be a relief for Violet to simply go back to floating on the desires of someone else, just safely playing by the rules, and on some level, Elle even understood that.
Life at the Garden had been frightening and stifling, violent and tense… but it had been largely predictable, and there had been a twisted safety in that. Elle had known what she’d be doing every minute of every day, food had just appeared in front of her, clean clothes magically appeared on her bed. She hadn’t had to think at all, or plan, or argue her point of view. It had been a child-like existence in so many ways, free of both choice and control, and as much as Elle hated to admit it, she still saw its appeal.
Maybe Violet had too… and maybe that’s all she’d seen after she left the Garden that night. Maybe she’d forgotten about the beatings, and being starved, and raped.
Elle sighed, then saw Rebel mopping his way over to her. She looked on the floor, automatically scanning for objects that might get in his way; the bar was always littered with lipstick tubes, glass shards, cigarettes, sometimes even articles of clothing.
Something shiny and plastic-looking caught her eye now, half-hidden under a far table in the most poorly-lit end of the bar. Elle got to her aching feet and headed over to take a look; when she got closer, she saw that it was a lanyard of some kind. Curious, she picked it up and found herself staring down at the smiling face of police officer Briley Cross… except that her name was Annette Morris, and she was a nurse at a place called Rose Terraces Nursing Home.
What the actual hell? What is this woman’s story, anyway?
“What’s that, Elle?” Rebel called over to her. “An ID?”
“Yep.” She held up the laminated plastic card. “Briley’s, except apparently she’s called Annette. Did you know she was working as a nurse?”
“What?” Rebel walked over and goggled down at the staff pass. “Nuh-uh, sweetheart, I didn’t know a thing about any of that .”
“She’s a real woman of mystery, huh?” Elle said drily. “I think her secrets have secrets.”
“You might be right.” Rebel was still looking at the ID, his face a bit troubled. “But whatever the story there, she’s gonna need this back, no matter what. Maybe she got herself a whole new identity after what happened up at the Garden?”
“That actually makes sense,” Elle said slowly. “I mean, I kind of have a new one, right?”
“Damn right you do.”
“So… do you know where she is?”
“Uh-huh. She’s staying with the twins.”
“OK. I’ll drop this off to them over at The Garage.”
“They ain’t working today,” Rebel reminded her. “They’re off sourcing that part that Silver asked them to find.”
“Oh, right.” Elle bit her lip. “I’m guessing Viking knows where Dux and Drake live?”
“Of course he does, but why are you asking?”
“Because he and I can drop this off to Briley – or Annette, or whatever, or whoever – on the way back to our place.”
“Nah, sweetheart,” Rebel said. “You guys are way on the opposite side of town from Dux and Drake, but I’m just two blocks over. Give it to me, I’ll run it over to her. I’m leaving in fifteen minutes, anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
“Totally.” Rebel gave her one of his shining smiles, one that made his eyes light up brighter than the sun. Elle still found it incredible that this man – this thoughtful, kind, sweet man – had been a drug dealer from age fourteen, and was intimately acquainted with the inside of a prison cell. It just showed her that people really could change, if that’s what they wanted to do. “You let your man get you home and into a shower. Hey, did you know that you have glitter in your hair?”
“I what?” Elle’s hand shot to her loose ponytail, and she scowled when it came away with pink sparkly crap all over it. “Stupid, stupid glitter.”
“Right? It’s the most annoying shit ever ,” Rebel agreed, then he took Briley’s ID from her, stuck it in his jeans pocket. “Go on, Elle. Viking just got here.”
She glanced across the room and saw him standing there, giving her that searching look, the one that told her that he was reading her body language, her stance, her facial expressions. Elle had never known a man more observant to her unspoken words than Viking, and she loved it. She felt seen with him, seen in a way that she had never been.
“OK, then,” she said to Rebel. “Thanks for taking it back to her. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem, sweetheart. You take care now.”
**
Sitting at the table closest to Elle and Rebel were two men avidly listening to their conversation, all the while pretending to be glued to their phones. They were first-time customers at Satan’s, and they’d spent a lazy two hours enjoying Rebel’s cooking and having a drink. Only the one, though. They were under strict orders to stay sober, stay quiet, stay alert. They’d walked into the bar with no real idea what they were looking for – they’d been told that they’d know it when they saw it.
And they’d just seen it.
“He’s taking the ID straight to the bitch,” the one with dark hair muttered to his friend. “Can you believe it?”
“No shit, Keene.” The other man shook his blond head, unable to believe their luck. “Here I thought we’d be stuck here for days, waiting for her to show her face. It would make grabbing her up challenging, especially the way these boys seem to always have their eyes peeled.”
“Right?” Keene gave a quick look around. “These boys are fucking hardcore.”
“Not as hardcore as Crusher,” his friend reminded him in a low voice. “ Nobody can get close to him.”
Both men fell into a contemplative silence, thinking about the rare and amazing opportunity that Crusher had extended them that morning: if they brought him Briley Cross alive, they’d be instantly promoted to full-on patched members of The Highway Hellions. Seeing as most of Crusher’s Prospects languished at that status for years – he was a demanding President, and few men even came close to proving themselves to him – they knew that they’d been handed a golden lottery ticket.
If they didn’t mess it up.
“So,” Keene said. “What do you think, Ford? We follow this MC prick to where the cop is hiding out?”
“Fuckin’ A,” Ford replied, shooting a quick look over at Rebel. “He did say he’s out of here in fifteen minutes, so I figure we’d better leave before he does. Follow him wherever he goes.”
“Yeah.” Keene stood up, left a tip under his beer glass. “Let’s get moving. I can’t wait to lay eyes on this bitch in person. Anyone who gets this kind of attention from Crusher has to be something pretty goddamn special.”
**
Rebel pulled up in front of Dux and Drake’s place, idly noting that the boys had finally planted large shrubs all around the path up to their front door. They’d been talking about doing it ever since they bought the cute little house – so for about five years now – because they’d found the long grey concrete slabs depressing to see, even from the street. Rebel had to admit that the lush foliage did make all the difference, and he was hardly a man who cared about things like greenery.
He strolled up the path, knocked gently on the front door. He’d called the twins and asked them to let Briley know that he’d be by that evening; he didn’t think that she’d appreciate him just showing up, what with that maniac Michael on the loose, and in cahoots with that even bigger fucking maniac Crusher.
Right away, he heard footsteps approaching, and he retrieved the laminated card from his pocket.
“Hello?” he heard a husky voice say.
“Hey, hon,” he said gently, held the lanyard up to the peephole in the door. “It’s Rebel. I brought your ID to you… Dux and Drake should have given you a heads-up, huh?”
Locks clicked and turned, then the door swung open.
“So,” he said, handing over the ID. “Here you go.”
“Hi, Rebel.” She smiled at him, and he marvelled at just how gorgeous she was; she had a radiance about her, a really beautiful natural glow, and he found himself basking in it. “Thanks so much for bringing this over… but you could have dropped it at The Garage, you know. The guys could have brought it to me tomorrow. They’ll be back home in about two or three hours, they said.”
“Ah, I didn’t know that. I assumed they’d be away for another day at least.”
“Yeah, me too.” Briley shrugged. “They found the part about three minutes after hanging up the phone with you, so they’ll be on the way back now.”
“That’s OK,” he said. “I wanted to check up on you, anyway… do you need anything? I know you’re kind of isolated here without a car, so maybe you need something from the grocery store?”
“Oh, God, no.” She rolled those amazing eyes. “The guys went shopping before they left, and I think they were way too enthusiastic.”
“No kidding.”
“Yeah. No.” She tilted her head at him. “Maybe you want to come in for a beer or a Coke? Juice or ginger ale? Coffee, tea? Sparkling strawberry-flavored water? The least I can do is offer you a beverage for running this over to me, and like I said, Dux and Drake stocked the pantry as if they thought the zombie apocalypse was imminent.”
Rebel had just opened his mouth to thank her very much, but he didn’t want to trouble her, when he felt an odd jolt in the middle of his back, as if someone had planted a hand there, and given him a firm push. He lurched forward, almost ramming straight into Briley, but rebounding off the door frame instead. He staggered back a few feet, stunned at how much it had hurt to hit the solid wood.
“Shit,” he said, putting a hand to his chest and wondering why it was suddenly so hard to take a breath. “What the hell?”
Briley was staring at him open-mouthed, and the look of pure terror on her face gave him pause.
“Hon?” The word came out thick and slow. “What?”
“Rebel –” She reached for him, and her urgency was palpable. “Come inside –”
A second hand pushed him now, harder and stronger, and this time he heard the shot. Rebel looked down, and was mildly surprised to see a splash of bright red blooming across his chest.
“ Rebel ,” Briley said again, but that was all she had time to say before the two men were on them.
The third shot was the one that finally took Rebel down: he landed heavily, half-in the house, his whole body already numb. Briley bent down next to him, grabbed his huge arm, tried to drag him the last few feet to safety. But it was no use – he was too heavy, he was dead weight, and anyway, the men were so close that Rebel could hear their breaths.
He looked up at Briley. “Run, baby. Run .”
It was no use, of course. They had their hands on her already, they were all over her; one held her from behind, pinning her flailing arms and legs, while the other jammed a cloth over her mouth. Briley slumped and that’s when the men looked down at Rebel.
“Hey, dickhead,” the blond one said in a friendly tone, even as he cocked his gun. “Crusher sends his greetings.”
The last shot hit Rebel right at the base of the spine, leaving him alive, but not able to move even one inch. The men contemplated him, prone and helpless on the ground, his golden eyes huge in his face, then they shrugged and turned around.
“I’m not risking another shot being heard,” the blond one said to his friend, then glanced down at Rebel. “See you in hell, asshole.”
“That’ll be way sooner than you think,” Rebel slurred. “When my boys find out what you’ve done here, they’ll come for you, motherfuckers. They’ll come for all of you.”
“Sure, whatever you say.” The dark-haired man shrugged, tossed Briley over his shoulder. “Don’t you know that Crusher wants you to come? He’s already waiting.”