Chapter 12
“I don’t know, Lennon,” Daria sobbed. “I’m not sure how long she was gone before we realized it.”
A dull ache settled into my gut as Daria’s tears resounded throughout the silent clubhouse. Dad and Drifter were there when we arrived. Ophelia drove Daria in her car. I took the lead and Cash brought up the rear. Striker wasn’t happy with me involving his club, but at Riker’s orders, he allowed us to enter. Word of Effie’s kidnapping had already spread throughout the membership, so when we arrived, the subdued mood reflected my feelings perfectly.
Hopelessness. Doom. Dread, especially when Cash announced he’d received a message that Effie’s phone was dead. Their private investigator couldn’t track her with the resources he had. Our only hope was Stretch’s ability to ping the towers of her last known location. If they hadn’t moved her or separated her from her phone, they’d find her that way. I couldn’t imagine how, even if Red Rum possessed equipment to track phones. Austin was a big city, the capital of Texas, a vibrant active place with any number of spots to hold Effie.
“I’ll call the cops myself, Daria!” Lennon’s voice blared through my tortured thoughts.
“Lenny, please,” Daria cried. “Don’t. You’ll put her at risk. This is a club matter and—”
“Daria, love, I understand you want to protect Slice, but he didn’t protect our daughter! They don’t have the resources.”
Riker had the resources. Striker did not. Furthermore, Riker would avenge Effie as a matter of principle. He just wouldn’t send anyone to save her. It was one of the few times I resented the structure of Red Rum.
“Slice, if you’re listening,” Lennon called, “I’m shocked and disappointed in you. Had I known you were a criminal, I wouldn’t have allowed you near my wife and I especially wouldn’t have let Effie within an inch of you.”
“Lennon, just come to the clubhouse.” Daria barely pushed the words out. She was crying so much, my anger toward her dissolved and I felt sorry for her. “We’ll figure it out then. Please, I’m begging you don’t do anything until then. Please, don’t risk my baby. Please.”
“Your baby, huh, Daria?” Lennon barked.
Across the room from me Daria sat at the bar and leaned her phone against a bottle of water, which didn’t allow me to see Lennon’s face. I moved restlessly in a chair at a table with Striker, Dad, Drifter, Desmond, Cash, and Dolph. We’d thrown ideas back and forth. I wanted to tear Austin apart to find Effie. Or wait until they contacted me again, hoped a number showed up so I could text back, and then offer her in exchange for me.
Cash added little to the conversation. He looked bored. Red Rum wasn’t on the scale of the Death Dwellers by any means. Riker’s chapter—our mother chapter—made the most money, which explained why they had the best resources. I didn’t know why Cash and Stretch had come. So far, they’d offered a load of bullshit and no action. About an hour ago, we got word that Stretch was in Houston. Not long after, a motherfucker arrived with an enormous duffle bag for Cash, then nodded to us and left.
“No, that’s not true!” Daria cried.
What the fuck had I missed?
“It is, Daria. You don’t see me as Effie’s father.”
“I swear I didn’t mean it like that, Lennon,” Daria said hoarsely. “A girl couldn’t ask for a better daddy than you. Effie adores you.”
“And I know what’s best for her, love.” His voice had gentled. “We’re calling in the cops.”
Lifting a brow at me, Cash folded his arms. I didn’t know what to say. I was on the verge of crashing out. Striker wanted the Death Dwellers to assist. Less collateral damage for his chapter, though I was his club member not theirs .
Striker got away with such fuckery because blood was thicker than water, and Riker allowed his brother the leeway he’d never afford anyone else. They didn’t want me going off on my own, half-cocked. No, Riker ordered me to stand down and Striker and Dad agreed. They didn’t care that Effie was a defenseless woman.
Ophelia plucked Daria’s phone up and smiled at the asshole on the screen. “Hi, Lennon. I’m Ophelia Donovan. Daria is quite distressed right now.”
“As if I’m not,” Lennon responded.
“I know,” Ophelia soothed. “But I’m asking on behalf of Daria and Effie to please just do as your wife suggests. I understand you want to call in the cops. You can’t.”
“I don’t know who you are, Ophelia, and I don’t care. I’m not listening to a biker slut who is tainting my wife and daughter just by breathing.”
Growling, Cash jumped to his feet, stalked to Ophelia, and snatched the phone. “Motherfucker, this is how this is going. Some of my brothers will arrive at your house shortly. If you call the cops at any time from now to the end of eternity, they will find fucking pieces of you.”
“Joke’s on you, sir,” Lennon said with indignation.
I agreed. More hyperbolic bullshit from Cash’s arrogant ass. No fucking way would he know what Lennon did, now or later.
Lennon snorted. “We have security cameras. You’ll be identified.”
“ Not . They’d have to see the fucking footage,” Cash retorted. A doorbell rang. “That should be Saw and Ziggy now. My patience is gone. My nerves are raw and I’m highly fucking insulted on behalf of my woman. Don’t fucking piss me off any further.”
Lennon screamed. “How the fuck did you get in—” His words abruptly cut off and he gasped.
The distinctive sound of a body thudding to the ground came through the line.
“We got him, Cash,” a new voice said.
They… what ?
“How do you want us to deliver him?”
“Alive,” Cash said grudgingly. “His woman wants him in one piece. Blindfold him and throw him in the back of the van. I suggest you gag his ass so you’re not tempted to fuck him up when he comes to, Saw.”
Saw snickered. “Got it, brother.”
“Watch your ass,” Cash said. “Satan’s Sinner motherfuckers are crawling. I would hate to have to blow them the fuck out of existence so far from home.”
“Damn, this motherfucker is heavy,” another new voice grunted.
“Stop whining like a pussy, Ziggy,” Cash said around laughter. He gave them the address of the Austin club. “I’ll text you directions from my phone.”
“You got it, brother.”
My phone alerted me to an incoming message. Unlike the first two messages, this one revealed digits, complete with a ‘601’ area code. A Jackson, Mississippi number.
The multimedia message took a moment to load. When it did, I opened it immediately and almost dropped to my knees.
Dutch stood behind Effie. She was topless, her nose and cheeks were swollen, bloodied, and bruised.
“Speak, Effie,” Dutch ordered.
“Effie!” Daria cried, rousing from her near stupor.
Cash barreled over with Daria and Ophelia hot on his heels. They crowded behind me before I could warn Daria away or tell Cash not to look.
“What have they done to her?” Daria cried.
Dutch slapped Effie and she reeled back. He grabbed a handful of hair and put a knife to her throat. “Talk.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she glared at him. I felt sick to my fucking stomach. Any moment, I expected Dutch to slit her throat.
“Come on, baby,” I said, shocked at how my own voice trembled. “Don’t be stubborn, Effie.”
Dutch pressed the knife into her skin. Daria screamed and fainted, so I paused the video. Ophelia held her until Dolph stood and lifted her into his arms, carrying her away. He walked out of the clubhouse with her. I assumed to bring her around the corner to Prissy’s place.
I pressed play and resumed the video.
“One more fucking chance, you stubborn little cunt,” Dutch roared. “Speak or die.”
“Slice,” Effie said, and her little sob broke my fucking heart. “I will never regret our time together. I only wish we had longer and I’m so sorry I wasn’t willing to hear you out. I never believed in love. The only pure and genuine love I saw was between my parents, but I fell in love with you over the course of the last eighteen months during our conversations. I just didn’t realize it until we were in each other’s company. I love you. I know you don’t feel the same and that’s okay. Tell Mom I love her and I’m so sorry our last interaction ended the way it did. I love her so much. I love her, Dad, Heath, and Cassie.” She swiped at her tears. “I still think Chad’s a fucking asshole but tell her I wish her all the happiness in the world.”
She went silent.
“Say the rest, Effie,” Dutch ordered.
“Fuck you.”
“Hold my phone, Rusty.”
I knew Rusty. He had a bushy beard and an empty head. Effie crumpled at the blow to her midsection. Dutch yanked her to her feet and shoved her closer to the camera.
He wrapped an arm around her neck and began fondling her tit. “You want this bitch back alive, Pretty Boy ? You have twenty-four hours to get to Jackson and turn yourself in. Otherwise, we’ll take her head in place of yours and consider the bounty paid.”
The call ended.
“Send me that clip,” Cash ordered.
I didn’t move. I continued staring at the phone and the thumbnail of the video where Effie professed her love and refused to tell me to exchange my life for hers.
Ophelia attempted to take my phone, but I tightened my hold.
“Fuck!” Cash yanked it away. “Fall apart when she’s back.” He pressed a few buttons, then threw my phone on the table. “We need all hands on deck.”
“So far, all you’ve done is issue orders,” I snapped, unhinging. I got to my feet and kicked my chair, wishing it was Dutch. “You have a lot of fucking nerve acting as if you know what I’m feeling. No one that you love has ever been in fucking danger.”
“Listen up, motherfucker—”
“I have a fucking name,” I sneered, debating on ignoring everyone’s orders and finding Effie. I was past the point of caring about orders and past the point of diplomacy with Cash. “And it isn’t motherfucker.”
“It could be motherfucking Bugs Bunny,” Cash barked, unfazed by my anger. He was tall and muscular, but I wasn’t a fucking runt. And, despite how well-preserved he was, he was older than me. One-on-one, I’d wipe the fucking floor with his ass. “I don’t want to be here any more than you fucking want me here, but Outlaw and Goose are acquaintances and I got marching orders to assess the situation and see what the fuck was needed to assist Red Rum. You motherfuckers don’t have the technology. You don’t have space. You don’t have fire power, so shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down, and let me do my goddamn job so I can get back to Hortensia and see my fucking children.”
I couldn’t believe he’d procreated and populated the world with more little hims. Fucking asshole.
Cash stalked to the wall behind our table and hefted the duffle bag that had sat forgotten since it was delivered.
Glaring at me, he removed his guns at his sides, then the shoulder holster. He stripped down to his bulletproof vest and underwear, and replaced his jeans, white T-shirt, and cut with the name ‘Cash’ to an all-black outfit and a cut with ‘Ghost.’ He strapped up again and grabbed another handgun from the bag and two skinning knives.
Somehow, I didn’t allow my mouth to fall open. Yeah, we’d opened this can of worms when I was ordered to steal the drugs. And, yeah, that was a fucking capital offense to intercept another club’s merchandise. And, yeah, Cash was right—I almost strangled on that admission—about what we did and didn’t have.
But fuck me sideways, I’d never seen as much hardware.
“Striker, Goose?” he grouched, grabbing a Barrett rifle from the bag and laying it across the chair. “I told Outlaw the situation. He understands your position and in solidarity wants you two to split the guns and ammo left in this duffle between your two clubs.”
Striker spat on the floor. “Keep those fucking guns. My chapter’s not into all that. We’re fine with our nines and thirty-eights.”
Desmond and Dolph shifted and pressed their lips together. Their yearning gazes called Striker a fucking liar, but they remained silent, staring at Cash’s assault rifle.
“ Goose, ” Cash gritted. Throwing shade with that one word and a side-eye was a fucking art. “There are two more Barretts in the duffle. I’ll have someone disassemble them for your easy transport. They’re MRADS.” He nodded to his. “Not the M107 like mine.”
“Outlaw told me you were a sniper in the military,” Dad said.
Cash nodded. “I was. Now, I’m the club’s sniper and bomb tech.”
A few whistles went up. I hated my own admiration. Cash was an arrogant fuckhead.
Cash pointed to the bag. “Riker is already aware of the munitions.”
“Exactly my fucking point!” Striker blared. “Munitions? That has to do with fucking combat! A combat package or some shit.”
Dad snatched the toothpick out of his mouth and pointed it at Striker. “Didn’t I just confirm the motherfucker is former military? Makes sense he’d use that term, fuckhead.”
Folding his arms, Striker glowered but shut the fuck up.
Cash glanced at his watch, then his phone. As if on cue, it rang. “Talk to me,” he answered.
“The phone that sent the video pinged from a tower near a warehouse close to the Colorado River,” Stretch said, on speakerphone. “It’s the same tower Effie’s phone pinged from before we lost the signal.”
“What’s the address of her location?” Cash demanded, a vital piece of information I wanted badly.
“We’re searching for cameras around where the phones pinged, Cash,” Stretch answered. “I can send a general location, but you don’t want to give us away by searching the area.”
“I hate it when you’re right.”
Stretch laughed. “Deal with it, fuckhead. Fair warning, Outlaw isn’t happy. He didn’t know we took Fee.”
“I’ll call him,” Ophelia promised.
“He said I should’ve taken you with me, babe. Sent you to Josh if you didn’t want to come to the club.”
“I had to see to Daria. I’ll make him see reason.”
“Call Meggie,” Stretch said. “She’ll calm him down. Tell her that her favorite sister-in-law wanted to meet her favorite author and we couldn’t deny her.”
Ophelia giggled. “You’re so silly. I’ll talk to her so she can calm my brother down and remind him of how crazy with worry he was when she was kidnapped, and also when I was stabbed.”
That startled me.
“Don’t bring that up, Ophelia,” Stretch said quietly.
“Yeah, don’t,” Cash added flatly. “I’ll regret Noah’s easy fucking death for the rest of my fucking life.”
“At least you got to participate,” Stretch complained.
“Are you two fucking insane?” Despite the snickers amongst us, Ophelia sounded appalled. “Arguing over, er…over…”
“Fucking a motherfucker up for fucking with you?” Cash supplied.
“Yep,” she said with a sniff.
“I only beheaded him. Johnnie would’ve cut little chunks out of him.”
Ophelia blanched. “You what ?”
“Shut the fuck up, Fee. That motherfucker left you for dead.” Cash raised his hands. “It’s done. His pieces were dropped into acid, thrown in the water, and turned to compost over a decade ago.”
“Goddamn,” I breathed.
“Ignore Cash the Grouch, Fee,” Stretch soothed. “It’s all good, babe.”
“Get back to work, Stretch.” Cash glared from Ophelia to the phone’s screen. “This walk down memory lane serves no purpose. It especially isn’t getting Effie back. Find her. You have three fucking hours. I want this over, Effie safe, and us on the road in the next twelve.”
“Josh is on standby with the plane if we need medical facilities for anyone,” Stretch said, unperturbed by Cash’s orders.
A plane? The club had a fucking airplane? That left me fucking reeling. Striker didn’t even have tracking equipment.
“Outlaw also wants to know if he should send Diesel?” Stretch went on, the question clear in his voice.
“For legal matters or executions?” Cash asked.
“Both, I assume,” Stretch responded. “Diesel will see the latter as a bonus. Outlaw mentioned defense counsel, however.”
“Tell him to keep Diesel on standby, too,” Cash instructed, took the phone off speaker, and put it to his ear.
The more I heard, the more my adrenaline pumped. Ideas on how to get Dad’s chapter of Red Rum to where the Dwellers were, ran through my head. Once we saved Effie.
“Get it done, Stretch,” Cash barked and disconnected. “Call your brother in twenty minutes, Fee. Slice, come with me. Striker, get as many members here as possible—”
“We’re all here, Cash,” Striker inserted with resentment.
Cash glanced from man to man and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Get all the chicks affiliated with your club here now.”
“We need to go on lockdown?” Dad asked.
Striker stiffened and shook his head. “Riker hasn’t approved that.”
“Well, your brother isn’t here,” Drifter said. “We are. I’ll call Riker and fill him in. But Dad’s right. We’re in danger. We don’t know where the rest of Dutch’s club members are.”
“He’s only sent out for special assignments,” Striker insisted. “He has four other motherfuckers in his crew.”
“Here’s the fucking deal,” Cash said. “Order a fucking temporary lockdown. I’m not risking Ophelia. I understand Effie is in danger, but I’ll walk out that fucking door and take my woman with me unless you guarantee her safety.”
Dad didn’t have jurisdiction over another man’s club, but he whispered to Striker.
The motherfucker finally nodded. “Fine.”
“Then let’s get this show on the road, kiddies,” Cash said.