Chapter 35 Shade
SHADE
The first thing I register is the smell.
Standing water. Rust. And the coppery tang of blood, which I assume is mine, although, my face and body are too numb to feel whether I’m still bleeding.
My wrists burn where the ropes cut into my skin, but given my hands are tied behind my back, it’s hard to calculate the damage. I feel the steady trickle of something warm down my neck, which I assume is blood from the head injury I got before even leaving the house.
All I know is, if I was in a bad way after the bike crash, I’m ten times worse now.
And if I get through this, I want to be sedated for a fucking week of recovery, so I don’t have to live through the first seven days of agony.
There’s a rope leading from my hands, tied to a beam overhead, but there’s no real tension in it. It’s more to keep me in one place, I guess.
Perhaps the only reassuring thing is that my head rests on Isla’s lap. We’re together and close to each other in this entrance to an old mine shaft. For now, I can keep Paltrow away from her.
When Paltrow first appeared at my door, holding a gun directly at me, I didn’t have the ability to grab a weapon of my own and my only relief was that Isla was no longer there. When he gave me the zip tie and told me to put my hands through it, then use my teeth to close it, I did as he said.
Because rule one of these situations is to do what you have to do to stay alive.
And when Paltrow arrived, he was babbling wild and crazy about holding me hostage and carving me up slowly, leaving bits of me scattered around for Jackal to find, like some kind of fucked-up game.
His goal was to draw out my death painfully and slowly, to cause the maximum amount of agony for Kai.
He’d raved about it taking years to recover from his burns, to track us down and find us. Being nomads had made it harder.
I’d almost vomited when Isla burst through the door. From my position, on my knees with my hands tied, it had been impossible to move faster than Paltrow who had a gun to her head before I could stand.
I take a deep breath, trying to clear the fog in my head.
Even though the scent of Isla is reassuring, and this moment of quiet is a brief reprieve from more pain, I force my eyes open and can see the blood smearing her bare feet.
This bout of unconsciousness was because the fucker made her walk over all that gravel and dirt and stone barefoot, instead of letting me carry her.
Before we left the house, she’d begged him to let her put the shoes she had in her bag on, but he refused.
She tried so hard to hide those tears, to keep putting one painful foot in front of the other, but when she fell down and cried, I charged Paltrow in frustration and rage.
It was messy; we tumbled. With his hands and feet free, he was back upright long before I was. And with a gun at Isla’s head, I had no choice but to comply.
Now, there is rope tying my ankles.
Isla’s emotions are frayed. When Paltrow ordered us to walk to his truck and I saw her house on fire, I nearly choked.
She could have died in there. I know it’s gonna take a really long time for that to sink in for her.
But we’ll rebuild the place brick by brick, if that’s what she needs.
Or she can move in with us. Make her videos there.
I’ll even wear one of those Ghostface masks, so I can help her without violating the Outlaws rules about social media.
But I won’t sit back and watch her heart break into so many pieces, we can’t put it back together again. I never thought I would say this, but once this is over, me and my fiancé will heal our old lady.
I wonder how Kai is holding up. I’m certain he’s seen the notifications from the security cameras by now.
I hope someone is there for him.
Butcher.
Grudge.
Anyone.
The old mineshaft Paltrow has led us to feels like a weak hiding place, and it suggests to me that he doesn’t really have a plan.
The light source is an oil lamp he pulled from the back of his truck, and it swings gently on a hook from the beam. The constant motion makes the mine walls feel alive, as shadows crawl along the rock face.
Worse, it illuminates Paltrow’s features.
There are severe burns up the side of his head, courtesy of the man I intend to make my husband as soon as this is over, but it’s the unrelenting darkness in Paltrow’s beady eyes that gives me the chills.
In a fair fight, I would have him disarmed and shot through the head for what he’s put Isla and Kai through.
“You okay, Sunbeam?” I say quietly.
She runs her fingers through my hair. “How can you ask me that when you look like you do? Are you okay?”
“Trying my best not to think about it.” I offer her a watery smile.
It’s the best I can do. He’s already humiliated both of us.
He made Isla take a piss in front of us both and made her take my cock out of my jeans so I could do the same as we hiked to the cave. “I’m sorry about your nanna’s house.”
Her breath hitches. “Her jewelry. It spilled out of the box when I dropped it. It’s such a small thing, but I keep hoping nobody stands on it all. Like, what if Kai comes home in the dark and doesn’t—”
“Isla,” I say gently, but firmly. “You can’t think about it.
Put it to the back of your mind. We’re alive.
You and me. And there’s no way the club doesn’t know we’re missing right now.
” I wince as I try to move to get comfortable…
well, less painful. I manage to shift to a seated position, my back to the wall.
“The only thing that matters is we stay alive for them to find us. So, let’s stay focused on that. ”
Isla’s hands are tied together in front of her, and she loops them over my head and hugs me. It hurts like a motherfucker, but I bite down on my lip and wince instead of making her feel worse.
Paltrow chomps down on an apple, and my stomach complains with every crack of its flesh. I’ve barely eaten today. Just coffee and a quick sandwich I made for lunch. My insides feel raw.
He turns fully toward me, and the smile he gives me is all teeth. He’s got those full-on donkey chompers that take up his whole mouth and then some. No wonder he could eat that apple in five bites. He waves the apple at me. “Hungry?”
“Not for anything you’ve had your mouth on,” I say. “I know where you like to put it.”
I can’t say the punch comes out of nowhere, but I can’t do anything to prevent it from making contact. My head snaps to the side, stars bursting behind my eyes as bone meets bone. I cough, spitting blood onto the floor. “You always were touchy in every sense of the word.”
“Garrett,” Isla warns. But she doesn’t know I need it. I need the anger and pain and hurt to cling on to. To keep me awake. To stop me from drifting off again. Because if I close my eyes like I did earlier, I won’t be able to see if he hurts her.
“You think this is funny?” he asks, the words tight. There’s a rage in them that’s blooming. And rage makes ordinary men do extraordinary things.
“No.” I shake my head but the motion makes me feel dizzy.
“I think it’s tragic. You should’ve just counted your blessings that you lived and walked away.
Because, from today on, whether I live or die, Jackal is going to find you.
You won’t have a minute’s peace. The rest of your life will be accompanied by the steady chirp of the deathwatch beetle. ”
He grabs the end of the rope tying my hands together, thrown over the old wooden beam, and tugs down hard.
“Fuck,” I yell as my body contorts. My arms weren’t meant to bend this way, and the position throws me forward, so I’m suspended with my knees just off the ground, feet bent beneath me, my head dangling forward.
Vicious bolts of pain make it impossible to try and transition into a crouching position.
“Enough,” Isla yells. “Please. Put him down.”
She’s on her knees too, just out of reach. Paltrow made her tie me up with the rope, and then, he tied her up. There’s soot and dirt on her face, which is streaked with tears. Her eyes are huge and wet and furious, all at once.
Beyond the mess her feet are in, she has no other injuries.
At least, not yet.
When this is over, I’m gonna get Wren to find the kind of trackers you can put under our skin. Because having them on our bikes and trucks means nothing in a situation like this. And the trackers on our phones are useless if we’re taken somewhere they don’t get signals.
“I’m fine, Sunbeam,” I grunt.
Paltrow laughs. “You really think so, do you?” His footsteps pass in front of me, his gun loose in his hand by his side. “See, I’ve been watching you since I heard from someone in Florida that you were up here, now. Had to double-check I’d heard her straight. Thought Jackal hated the cold.”
“Good for you,” I say, and make a note to call Knox, the president of the Florida chapter, to tell him they have a rat sharing where brothers are at, to someone excommunicated from the club.
Her.
A woman, at that.
Paltrow laughs. “Did you know Jackal was fucking your neighbor?”
He says it like it might be news to me. “You haven’t been watching too closely, or you’d know I’m very aware he’s fucking us both.”
And then, I want to kick myself because I know better than to give information away.
I wish I could see his face, but from this position, with my hands tied behind my back, but also hoisted over a beam, I have no leverage. I try to get my feet back underneath me, but the pain through my ribs is so strong, I vomit.
Paltrow jumps back to avoid getting it on his boots. “They said you were one of the toughest Outlaws. But here you are, puking with fear.”
“I’m puking…because you stink,” I say. “You’re the one standing in an abandoned mineshaft, with two people, one light source, no visible exit strategy, and you even left your truck less than a quarter of a mile away. I might be sick. But you’re sloppy.”
“You don’t get to talk to me. You don’t get to mock me.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I absolutely do.”
He lunges at me, as I hoped, and despite the fist connecting with my ribs and the breathtaking pain that detonates throughout me, stealing my breath, I stay focused on the objective.
While I’m ever so slightly airborne, I right my feet so I can stand.
The pressure on my arms is immediately released.
Paltrow grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You want to know what Jackal took from me?” he hisses.
“Beyond the ability to rape your own fucking sister?”
“He took everything. The club. My money. My home. My reputation. My name. Even my fucking skin.”
By the time he says the last few words, he’s yelling.
I glance at Isla, and she shakes her head ever so slightly.
He paces away, running his hands through his hair while laughing beneath his breath. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to be tortured?” he asks, before suddenly turning back to me.
“I mean, this doesn’t feel great,” I reply.
“Let me show you.” He looks at Isla, and my heart slams against my ribs.
He steps closer to her, and she scrambles back instinctively until she hits the wall with a dull thud.
“No,” I say sharply. “Leave the woman out of it. This isn’t how Outlaws handle their shit.”
The smile he gives me leaves my soul ice cold. “Well, like Jackal ensured I understood, I’m no longer an Outlaw.”