33. Harper
33
Harper
T he zip ties around Harper’s wrists and ankles were too tight, but it was nothing compared to the pain of her throbbing head. Her vision was blurred, making it hard for her to concentrate on where they went. Tilting her head upward, closing her eyes, she did her best not to vomit all over the back seat of the sedan as her captors drove far too fast and erratically.
It’d been years since she’d been around the Roughneck Riders, but she recognized a biker a mile away. Besides, the skull wearing a helmet with two wrenches crossed behind it and an oil rig tattooed on Baldy’s neck was a dead giveaway. He was a Roughneck Rider, or at least was a member of good standing at one point.
Kidnapping the president—she winced at the thought—the former president’s kid was definitely a no-no. Not to mention beating the ever-loving hell out of her. That was definitely frowned upon. Her connections were supposed to garner her protection, if not out of respect for her dad, then her brothers. Her dad may be dead, but her brothers were still in good standing with the club.
Weren’t they?
Oh fuck.
What if…?
Her heart clenched as the most horrific of thoughts crossed her mind. What if she wasn’t the only one with a bounty on her head? She never asked Paul about her siblings.
What the hell was going on with her father’s club? His body was barely cold, and they had already devolved into utter chaos. Who the hell had taken over? She thought Diesel was positioned to do so, but he was facing jail time. While he hadn’t been sentenced yet, there was no doubt he’d spend time behind bars.
Maybe they didn’t want him to lead them because of the upcoming prison time. Oh, hell. Who had stepped up in his place? It sure as shit wasn’t either of these two chucklefucks. They were just being obedient soldiers.
Weston, her brother, would never have ordered this if he was still breathing. It couldn’t be him. Besides, he was too young and hadn’t had a patch long enough to take that seat. So, who the fuck was in charge?
Also, how the hell had they found her? Paul assured her, promised her, that the safe house was a secret. No one knew about it. Or so he thought. Obviously, someone did, and he wasn’t aware of it.
How much more could go wrong?
Flinching, Harper groaned as the car turned and went over some sort of bump. It jostled her about in the back seat, aggravating whatever injuries she had sustained. With a sudden jolt, flinging her forward slightly, they stopped.
Fluttering her eyes open, she squinted. It was far too bright. Scanning the area, she tried to figure out where they’d taken her. The dirt lot was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
When the rear passenger door opened, she spotted a line of motorcycles before Henley blocked her sight line. “Time to bring you home.”
Home?
Curling his fingers around her upper arm, he yanked her out of the car. Struggling to keep her feet under her was futile. Once he had her out, he wrapped his arms around her thighs and lifted her up high, throwing her over his shoulder.
She grunted as he placed pressure on her gut. “This isn’t a good idea,” she said.
The sting of his hand popping her across the ass caused her legs to kick out and a yelp to escape her lips.
“Quiet,” he barked.
Immediately her guts bubbled, and she tried to swallow the saliva pooling in her mouth. “It’d be in your best interest to put me down,” she tried to warn him.
He chuckled as he sauntered away from the car. “Why would I do that?”
It started with a dry heave. Her stomach lurched, and before she knew it, her breakfast erupted from her stomach, exploded past her lips, and covered Henley’s back.
“Motherfucker,” he hissed and threw her down onto the ground.
With her hands and feet bound, Harper had no way of protecting herself from the fall. Another burst of pain throttled through her hip and shoulder. Landing with a heavy thud, she coughed through more vomit projecting from her.
“What the hell is wrong with her?” Baldy asked as he approached.
“I don’t fucking know,” Henley snapped, then tugged his shirt over his head. “Get inside. You need to see Doc before you bleed the fuck out. You’re pale as shit. Send a prospect out to deal with this bullshit.”
Without a word, Baldy turned and hobbled away.
Grumbling to himself, Henley dragged his jeans down his body before stepping out of them. Standing in his boxers, he glared down at Harper just as her stomach stopped rolling. He crouched down and cocked his head to the side as he brushed some of her hair out of her face.
“I don’t know what the big deal is. If it were up to me, I would’ve shot you by now and put you out of your misery.”
Narrowing her eyes, she wasted no time and spat in his face. “Fuck you.”
“Goddammit!” He jumped back and covered his face. “Bitch.”
When his steel-toed boot found her gut, her eyes bulged, the air left her lungs again, and she sputtered fresh vomit. Agony. She was in the most excruciating pain she had ever felt in her life, but she wasn’t about to go down easily for anyone.
Huffing and puffing, doing her best to breathe through her suffering, Harper rolled to her back and pulled her knees up. From the corner of her eye, she noticed two lanky-looking assholes wearing stiff, impossibly clean black leather cuts.
The prospects.
“What the hell?” one of them said as he stopped and took in the scene before. “Why are you practically naked?”
“She puked all over me,” Henley snarled as he gestured toward her.
The two potential bikers glanced in her direction. One of them gagged as though the scent of her stomach contents just hit him.
“Oh, suck it up.” Henley rolled his eyes. “Bring her inside. Diesel is waiting.”
Diesel? Alarm bells went off in her head as one of them slid his hands under her armpits and the other grabbed her ankles. What the fuck? Dwight is behind this?
No. He couldn’t be. He was a raging asshole, but he wasn’t this big of a dickhead.
Groaning as a fresh wave of torment rolled through her body, she gritted her teeth as the men lifted her. Why would Dwight do this? Was this his misguided attempt to protect her from the bounty on her head?
Never one to shy away from a little violence from time to time to get what he wanted, it was completely feasible for him to rough her up along the way. Hell, he’d done it himself back in the day, so it wasn’t a deal-breaker for him. Especially when he thought he was doing the right thing. Well, right was the wrong word. When it came to Dwight, he was relentless when he wanted something. He didn’t care who got hurt in the process.
Little did her longtime ex know, he’d probably just thrust her further into danger by taking her away from the only person who would sacrifice himself for her. No matter Dwight’s intention, he just signed his death warrant, and honestly, she couldn’t have cared less about it. She only hoped it wouldn’t mean her demise as well.