Chapter 17
Bear
I can’t believe I’ve been in a holding pattern for three and a half weeks.
Natalie wanted to do this and after I understood why, I couldn’t keep cock-blocking her.
She told me this wasn’t just about money.
From what we know David and Jeremiah had a hand in their mother’s death, and if she finds out it’s true, she won’t let them get away with that.
Objecting to her wanting to find justice for the woman who was like a grandmother would have made me the worst kind of asshole imaginable.
So, I got on board, tried to anticipate all the ways this could go wrong, helped her come up with plans and workarounds for every possible problem she might encounter and gave her my blessing. What else could I do?
If I’d had my way we would have handled this in a way that didn’t put her at their mercy.
I would have preferred just giving the fuckers a dirt nap.
It would have been a quiet, permanent way to solve the problem.
I’m no cold-blooded killer but if it came to find out her foster father and his brother did kill their mother, I would have dropped them where they stood without a second thought and made damn sure no one ever found the bodies.
My second choice would have been going the legal route by involving lawyers, seeking search warrants, and subpoenas.
I’d have sicced law enforcement on them in a heartbeat.
If they couldn’t find enough evidence, I’d even have settled for charging him for something un-fucking-related, like tax evasion.
As long as they ended up behind bars and couldn’t hurt the people I care about, I wouldn’t have given a shit.
Either of those paths would’ve kept her out of danger.
But she dug her heels in, and once she made her decision, all I could do was support it. That’s what love is in my world—being there for someone, even when you don’t agree with their choices.
When she sent me the picture of the pregnancy test kit this morning, all bets were off.
I wasn’t gonna sit around twiddling my thumbs while the woman I love and the mother of my unborn child put herself in danger.
I was coming to get her. I tried calling to give her a heads-up but it wouldn’t connect.
I figure she had it switched off or was in an area with no signal.
I’m on my way to Sacramento and filling my bike at a gas station when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out, my heart sinks when I read the words.
Natalie: He knows I found the evidence. Get me out. Now.
Shock roils through my gut and I leap into action.
First, I forward her message to our group chat, so the other brothers know we need to move. Then I call Siege, just in case he didn’t see the message.
“What’s up, brother?” he asks.
“Check the group chat,” I spit out.
“Damn.” He pauses for a moment then says, “Where are you, now?”
I glance at the road. “I’m on 1-80, about thirty minutes from Sacramento. You wanna join me and get those assholes?”
There’s a dark chuckle. I’m about to call out my Prez for laughing at a time like this, but I stop myself. His voice is determined as he grits out, “We can be there in an hour. Reckon your woman can hold out that long?”
I’m already shaking my head. “No. I’m going there now. If there’s no sign of trouble, I’ll wait for you. But if she needs me, I’m going in all guns blazin’.”
“Your call,” Siege says.
I shoot them all a text with the address and get back on my bike.
***
When I pulled into the neighborhood, I was ready to do battle. Though what I saw when I got to the end of the street made me think twice. A man, I’m assuming her asshole foster father’s brother, was loading boxes into the back of a sedan. He didn’t look panicked or ruffled. Just deadly calm.
Getting rid of the evidence.
I decide to wait for my brothers. Thankfully, they must have ridden like the wind because it’s not long before they pull in behind me.
Thirteen sets of boots hit pavement. Thirteen cuts gives us more than enough manpower to deal with whatever we’re gonna find here. The car is still in the driveway so the first thing I do is slash its tires. I’m not having him driving away with the evidence.
We make our way up the steps and shove the door open without knocking or announcing ourselves because we’re not the fucking police. Inside, in the living room, Natalie’s foster parents back up, hovering together in the far corner of the room. They look pale, jittery and guilty as hell.
David Elliot stammers, his voice sharp with panic and fury. “You don’t have permission to be in this house. You think you can just barge in here like animals?”
Just when I’m thinking about grabbing this fucker by the neck and squeezing information out of him, Jeremiah steps out of the shadows.
His expression is calm, his voice low and steady.
“This is unlawful entry,” he says evenly.
“You’re making a very serious mistake. I’d advise you to leave now—before things escalate in ways none of us can undo. ”
He’s standing tall and trying to look calm and in control.
But I see all the things he’d like to hide, like his hair is messed up, he’s sweating and his knuckles are grazed.
I recognize the injuries. I’ve gotten them before when I’ve been in a fight.
For a moment I see red, thinking of my woman and what he’s done to her.
But then I pull myself together. It looks like he’s been beating on something, not someone.
I immediately pivot and stalk over to him. As I move, Siege’s voice rings out, rough and angry, “Search every goddamn room in the house. Find Bear’s old lady.”
Jeremiah’s eyes widen when he sees me coming for him. He can’t control the look of cold, hard fear that jumps onto his face. My hand collides with his throat just hard enough to let him know I mean business before my fingers wrap around. I drag him forward, pulling him off balance.
“Tell me where my old lady is, before I snap your neck. Where’s Natalie?”
To say this man is rattled would be an understatement. The last remnants of his calm facade melt as he realizes that whatever he has planned, he’s outmanned. The fucker should be terrified. If he has so much as harmed a hair on Natalie’s head, then I’m gonna put him in the ground.
Siege moves in behind me. “Bear, you’re gonna have to ease up on his throat if you want him to answer you.”
When I don’t immediately comply, Siege slams the palm of his hand against Jeremiah’s forehead. Thank God, I have the fuckin’ common sense to open my hand as he staggers back and falls to the ground.
Rigs’ deep voice cuts through the room. “You two, get on your knees. Now.”
I glance over to see the foster father dropping to his knees first. For some reason, he moves his hands forward and places them on the floor until he’s in the doggy position.
Siege mutters, “Fucking hell, he thinks it’s yoga time.”
I shoot him a disbelieving look, even as Jeremiah tries to stagger to his feet. Without thinking I kick him back with one big boot and growl, “Stay down, you ignorant fuck.” When he doesn’t, I plant that same boot on his chest, pinning him.
Staring down at him, I’m vaguely aware that Rigs is zip-tying the foster parents in my peripheral vision. I don’t spare them another look because my focus is square on Jeremiah now.
When I move my boot up to press gently against his throat, Jeremiah caves in an instant.
“She’s in the root cellar,” he blurts. “I swear, we didn’t lay a hand on her.”
Removing my foot, I haul him up by the front of his shirt and say, “Show me.”
I don’t even have to tell him all about how I’m gonna mess him up if he tries to jerk me around because having my boot on his throat already successfully drove that point home.
He glances over at the gun in Siege’s hand. I can see his shoulders sag. Gesturing towards the back door, he says in a defeated voice, “It’s out back. I’ll show you.”
Just like he said, the root cellar door sits at the back of the house, and I know immediately how he got those injuries on his hands.
The cellar has two big doors that not only open horizontally but are made of thick, white metal and the frame is set into concrete.
It’s more of a storm shelter than a cellar.
Jeremiah says, “Good luck getting her out of there.”
Siege grabs him by the back of his collar and hauls him back. “How’s about you shut the hell up unless we ask you something that requires an answer.”
I approach the door and give it a gentle knock.
“Natalie, it’s me,” I call, feeling like my chest is caving in. “If you’re in there, let me know.”
There is a short pause and then I hear her respond in a quivering voice: “He killed his mother! I found the evidence, don’t let him get away!”
“Don’t worry, darlin’ we got him and his brother. I’ll take care of that fucker. Open the damn door.”
There is a clink, like she unbolted the door.
The sound of metal scraping against metal is the first indication that she’s trying to shove one of the doors open.
I grab it with one hand and heave it up, tossing it aside on its hinges.
Looking down, I see Natalie with one hand grasping onto a pile of papers and the other blocking the afternoon sun from her eyes.
I reach out and pull her up against my chest. Feeling her heartbeat hammer against mine reassures me she is alive and whole. She clings to me with her free arm as I press my forehead against hers.
“You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
“I’m okay,” she murmurs, clutching the papers at her side.
When I ease back and set her onto her feet, I see fingermarks on her arm where someone tried to grab her.
“Which one of these assholes did this to you?”
She looks over at Jeremiah. Tank has a hold of him, he’s back to looking like a defiant fucker again.