30. Player
Chapter thirty
Player
My father turns the phone toward me.
It’s a picture of Taylor duct-taped to a chair. Relief floods over me. Thank God she’s alive. I want to tear apart whoever did this to her.
More than anything, I blame myself. Guilt weighs heavily on me. I promised to keep her safe, and I failed miserably. She must hate me.
Finally, I tear my eyes from the photo and read the accompanying text.
UNKNOWN: IF YOU WANT TO SEE YOUR DAUGHTER ALIVE AGAIN, YOU’LL TAKE THE OFFER ON YOUR LAND.
Gage looks at me. “I should text them a picture of Cici sitting next to me, the dumb motherfuckers.”
“You can’t do that. The minute they think Taylor is not your daughter, they’ll kill her.”
“Yeah, I know. I just fucking hate this shit.”
Drae leans over my shoulder to peer at the picture. “What’s that in the background?”
“Looks like some kind of warehouse, doesn’t it?” Gage says.
“The background is blurry, but there’s something on the wall. I can’t read the words, but that logo looks familiar,” he says.
I look closer. “Is that a tire with wings?”
My father looks again. “Let me see.”
“I know it, I just can’t place it,” Drae says.
“Is it a motorcycle logo?” I ask.
Gage shakes his head. “No, that’s not it.” Then he snaps his fingers. “It’s a tire company. What the fuck was the name of it? Good Deal?”
I pull out my phone and ask it for the name of a tire company with a logo like that one.
“Good Ride,” I repeat, looking at Gage.
“That’s it. They went out of business years ago.”
“They have a warehouse around here?” Drae asks.
I search it on my phone. “They had a place on Market St in South Wilmington.” I put the address in my maps app, then pull the street view.
It’s an old, abandoned warehouse that looks like it’d be the perfect place to stash someone.
“This.” I turn my phone to show them. “It’s about an hour and half north of here. ”
“Let’s roll out. If we hurry, we can get there before dawn. Let’s take the vans. I don’t want them alerted,” Gage says, and we all file out of the room.
Ten minutes later, we’re loading up two vans with all kinds of tools, blowtorches, and wire cutters. Cruz is tossing everyone black hoodies, ski masks, and gloves.
Slaughter is arming us with shotguns and AR15s.
Cruz slaps a magnetic sign on one van that says Kelly Plumbing, and a second that says Keystone Electric on the other van.
Then we load up and head out.
For an hour and a half I stare at the floor, blaming myself for all of this. I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight. I shouldn’t have let my guard down. I shouldn’t have let that bitch, Molly, anywhere near me or the club.
I think about the damning information Taylor overheard. If it's true, Molly has been feeding our enemies information all this time. She was the reason that bomb took out my mother, my wife, and Taylor’s brother.
She was the instigator of all of it.
I squeeze my hand into a fist, imagining watching her eyes bulge as I strangle the life from her body.
Three people are dead because of her.
And now she’s had a hand in turning Taylor over to the goddamn Depraved Sinners. The thirst to kill has never been so strong inside me.
“We’re getting close,” Drae whispers from the driver’s seat.
My father sits beside him and raises his phone to talk to Cruz, who drives the van behind us. “This is it.”
Drae makes the turn onto Market Street. It’s a short road between the river and the overpass. We come around a curve and Drae slows down.
We all peer toward the left.
“That’s it,” my father says.
There’s a metal fence and a gate with a chain around it. A huge, overgrown concrete parking lot with weeds in every crack leads to a hulking massive building in the shadowy distance.
I think of Taylor alone in there. It must be pitch-black. I doubt there’s even any electric service to the old place. She must be terrified.
Slaughter tosses me an AR15 and we lock eyes. “You ready, VP?”
He and every single one of my brothers knows what’s at stake and how much it’s affecting me.
I nod. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”
Slaughter turns to my brother, Beck. “I’ve got the wire cutters. You bring the blowtorch.”
Drae rolls to a stop, and Slaughter slides the side door open. We hop out and move to the gate.
Beck makes short work of the chain, and we swing the gates wide. Both vans roll through, and we close the gate and jog after them. If anyone drives past, nothing will look out of order.
The vans roll around the back of the building, out of sight of the road, and park. We scope out the place with small flashlights.
“Over there.” Gage points. “If she was left in an office, it’s gonna be on this side.”
A door is chained shut, but Slaughter drops his weapon and blasts through it. We jog inside, flashing beams of light around.
“Check every goddamn office,” I say, half expecting a Depraved Sinner to pop out.
“Maybe they didn’t leave a guard. She’s not going anywhere,” Cruz says.
“Taylor!” I scream. “You here?”
Drae motions me to an office. “This one.”
But when I race to it, it's empty.
He points to the wall. “That’s the calendar. This was the room.”
“They moved her,” I say. Slaughter comes to stand in the doorway and flashes his light across the floor. “Look.” He points at the concrete.
There are several long trails where the dust is disturbed. They lead out the door.
“They rolled the chair out.”
“Follow it,” I bark, and we move down the hall. I jog ahead, searching. “Taylor?”
There’s no answer, but I think I hear thumping.
“Quiet,” I hiss and no one moves.
The sound comes again.
“In that room,” Drae points to an open doorway and shines his flashlight on the ground. The trails lead into it.
I dash in with Slaughter at my side, aiming his barrel around the room, determined to protect his VP.
The room is pitch black, but I flash my light around and find her huddled behind a tall cabinet.
Tears stream down her face, and her mouth is taped shut.
I kneel before her and gently pull it away.
She bursts into tears.
I cup her face and kiss her, then pull back. “Who’s got a damn knife?”
Slaughter gets to work on one side, while Drae slices through the tape on the other.
“Be careful of her arm,” I warn, hoping she’s not been badly injured.
Once she’s free, I drag her into my arms and hold her tight.
She buries her face in my hoodie and cries.
I hold her through it, stroking her hair. “You’re safe now, baby. It’s over.”
“Thank God you found me. How did you know where I was?”
“Drae noticed the calendar on the wall behind you in the photo those bastards sent us.”
“It was the Depraved Sinners. They’re the ones who took me. Molly handed me over to them. She tricked me into going out to her car, then she hit me with a taser.”
I stroke her head. “That bitch is dead. Are you okay? They didn’t”—I pause and swallow---“hurt you further?”
She seems to know what I’m asking. “They didn’t touch me, not like that.”
I press my forehead to hers, relief flooding me. “Thank God, baby. I’m so fucking sorry I let this happen.”
“You didn’t let it happen. It’s not your fault.”
But I know in my heart her association with the MC is what led her to be here. There’s no denying it. All my worst fears came true. “Thank God you're alive.”
It’s all I can say. She may try to excuse my culpability, but I know I’m at fault.
“But where are they? Is this a trap to get you here?” Taylor asks.
The thunder of motorcycles rolling up reverberates through the big metal building.
Shots ring out, and someone shouts. “We’ve got company, boss.”
Taylor clutches my hoodie. “Don’t leave me.”
I think about passing her to one of the men and joining the fight; it’s my job as VP to be with the men, but there’s no way I’m leaving her or letting her out of my sight. Not again. Never again.
“Never, baby. I’ve got you.”
The rest of the club jogs off to take up positions.
I push Taylor behind the old metal cabinet. “Stay there.”
Her eyes are wide, and I have to pull her fists free of my hoodie, and that tears my heart out.
“I’m just going to the doorway. No farther,” I promise, and I take up position with my AR-15.
Slaughter is at the end of the hall where it opens into a large open space. The boys all line the windows, breaking glass and shooting. Fire rains back at them. Slaughter slams behind a concrete pillar, taking cover.
In every fight I’ve ever been in, there’s always the chaos of gunfire, but this time Taylor is at risk, and that adds a level of determination to my every action.
Muzzles flash as my brothers return fire, and in the echoing old building, the sound is deafening. My ears ring and the smell of cordite burns my nose.
The pitch darkness is only broken by the blinding flashes of gunfire.
A chipped piece of brick flies past my ear, and I duck back,
Lifting my weapon, I flip the selector switch with my thumb, moving it from Safe to Fire with a quick click. I pull the T-shaped handle at the back of the receiver and let it snap forward, loading the first round.
Aiming down the site, my shoulder absorbs a steady push with round after round that I fire.
The sound is deafening. Hot brass casings bounce off my arm.
I keep firing through the windows across the hall. The magazine holds 30 rounds, and before I know it, I’m out. Reloading takes only seconds, though. I release the used one, dropping the empty mag to the floor, and insert a fresh one, then continue firing.
A moment later, the enemy hits us with a blitz of fire, everyone at once, and I drop for cover, pinned by the shells exploding in the concrete and brick around me.
I see Slaughter get hit in the arm and drop to his ass. Cruz and Drae move in front of him to give him cover, and I stand and rain a hail of bullets toward the enemy.
“He okay?” I yell, seeing my father and Beck haul Slaughter back. Beck rips a piece of cloth from his t-shirt and begins wrapping Slaughter’s arm.
There are thirteen of us, not counting the prospects, and I watch all of them except Gage and Slaughter charge out, firing.
I give what cover I can, and soon the Depraved Sinners are mounting up and riding away.
“Let’s move!” Gage shouts.
Moving to Taylor, I drop to a squat. “You okay, honey?”
She nods but looks terrified.
“It’s over. They pulled out. Come on. I’ve got to get you to the van. We’ve got to clear out before they return.” I pull her to her feet, wrap my arm around her, and we jog down the hall to the door.
Beck has a shoulder under Slaughter’s and is bringing him to the van as well.
Gage and Drae make sure everyone is inside, then they jump in the van, and both vehicles take off.
“Stay down,” Drae yells, and we all lie close to the floor.
We hear a few shots ring out, and then the sound of sirens carries to us.
Beck glances out the back window. “Their bikes are turning around and heading the other way.
Two squad cars fly past us, lights flashing, heading that way, and Drae slows down to the speed limit.
“Get us the hell out of here,” my father growls.
Drae gets up on the interstate, Cruz following in the van behind us. Soon, we’re miles away.
My father settles back and lights a cigarette, but I notice the slight tremor in his hand. “Get us to the clubhouse. They might retaliate.”
Drae picks up speed.
I dial Sleaze, and he picks up on the first ring.
“Yes sir?”
“Lockdown. We just had a fire fight with the Depraved Sinners. They may be headed that way for retaliation.”
I disconnect, and lock eyes with Gage. Right now, he’s not my father; he’s my president. “They’ll handle it, prez.”
Gage nods and turns to face the road.
I hold Taylor against my side and glance at Beck. “How’s he doin’?” I lift my chin at Slaughter.
“I’m fucking fine, VP. Quit makin’ such a fuss.” Slaughter acts tough, but his skin is ashen.
“Have Doc meet us at the clubhouse,” my father snaps, and I pull out my phone to make the call.