Chapter 8 Shadow
SHADOW
As much as I didn’t want to leave Mika after such an intensely pleasurable morning in bed, the Prez called church again to discuss our recent runs and hash out a plan for Sons of Destruction.
Mika pouted slightly when I told her the news, but then I reminded her of the tea and scones from yesterday, as well as the cold pancakes she could warm up.
That seemed to satisfy her for the moment.
Rogue, our Road Captain, is just finishing his updates on the regular supply runs when my phone rings.
Reaper glares at me, and I grab my phone to silence the call.
When I see Mika’s name flash across the screen, I know I have to answer.
She’s never called before, and she knows I’m in an important meeting.
I nod to Reaper, then quickly exit the room. I’m sure I’ll have to pay for it later, but I don’t care. My heart is nearly tumbling out of my chest, wondering what’s wrong.
“Hello? Mika?”
I don’t hear anything on the other end of the line at first, other than what sounds like rustling leaves and heavy breathing.
“Mika? Are you okay?”
This time, I do hear her voice. But it’s far away, like she’s on speaker phone, but it’s in her pocket or something. I crank the volume up on my phone to hear as much detail as I can.
Muffled voices argue back and forth, my blood running cold when I hear two distinct male voices along with Mika’s.
“Grant, why would you do this to me?” My heart thrashes in my chest hearing the anger and fear in her voice. “Grant, Heath, we grew up together. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Just because we shared a few of the same foster parents doesn’t make us family,” a male voice answers harshly. “You’re our ticket in, and just because you escaped the first time doesn’t mean we were going to give up on you.”
“This is all to get into Sons of Destruction?” Mika asks.
A fuller picture of what’s happening forms in my mind.
As much as my woman and I have shared over the last few days, we didn’t go into too much detail about the night I found her at the auction.
I didn’t want her to have to relive those awful memories, but I realize now I should’ve gotten more information so I could’ve protected her better.
These two fuckers, Grant and Heath, must be foster Brothers wanting to patch in.
I’m guessing they used familiarity to lull Mika into a false sense of safety before drugging her and dropping her off at the auction.
White-hot rage boils my blood, sending adrenaline and righteous fury coursing through my body.
“Shut up, bitch,” someone snarls at her. I growl at the insult, wishing I were right there so I could snap his neck in two. “Get in the goddamn car.”
“If you guys are bikers, where are your motorcycles?” Mika asks.
Part of me is glad to see she has some fight in her, but the other part is wondering why she’s antagonizing them.
“You’re still driving around with this old piece of shit Toyota?
You can hardly tell it’s supposed to be dark blue with all the rust eating away at the paint.
How old is it anyway? At least as old as my twenty-two years? ”
I see what my smart girl is doing. She’s describing the car her foster brothers are presumably getting ready to throw her into.
“He told you to shut up, didn’t he?” the other man says. “Are you holding a fucking phone in your hand? Jesus.”
Right before the line is cut, Mika shouts out a string of letters and numbers. I write them down on my arm, realizing it’s a license plate number.
I strain to hear anything else, but the call cuts out. I assume her phone was smashed into a million pieces, and I’m hoping she didn’t get any physical punishment for trying to save her own life.
I burst into the back room, not caring that I just interrupted church.
Fifty pairs of eyes look at me, but I feel Reaper’s gaze above the others.
I know I’m on thin ice after what happened during the not-so-stealth mission, but this is more important than anything else I’ve ever worked to achieve in my entire life.
If Mika isn’t by my side, what’s the point?
“They got her,” I heave out in an exasperated breath. “Mika,” I clarify. “She… She just called, and – and… They took her, and…”
“Take a breath,” Reaper demands. “Slow down, tell us what happened.” His features have turned from annoyed to alert, sensing the panic in my voice.
“The call,” I start again, trying to get my thoughts together. “Her foster brothers were the ones who took her to the auction in the first place. Apparently, the new rule for patching into Sons of Destruction is bringing a woman to be sold.”
My brothers grunt and snarl almost in unison at this piece of information. Now that I have their attention, I finish giving them the rest of the information.
“I have a description of the car and the license plate. If we can track that, we can find her. I don’t know if they’re stupid enough to bring her straight to the Sons of Destruction clubhouse, or if they’re making a pitstop, but we have no time to waste.”
Rogue is already standing up and heading my direction.
I’m beyond grateful to have such a loyal friend.
The Prez takes a second to absorb all the details, then nods his head.
Reaper walks to the back of the room, where we have a bunch of computers and high-tech equipment that I know nearly nothing about.
Everyone springs into action, and I’m asked by someone about the car and the license plate. I rattle off the information and watch one of my MC brothers type it into a computer. He pulls up multiple databases, and my eyes cross with the lines and lines of numbers on the screen.
Reaper claps me on the shoulder and turns me around, directing me toward the MC’s armory. “He’ll track down the car location while we prepare for a showdown.”
“Thanks, Prez,” I tell him sincerely.
“You can thank me when it’s all over, and you have your girl in your arms again.”
What feels like hours later, but in reality is closer to ten minutes, six of our most trusted members, including Reaper and me, head to the last known location of the vehicle.
We're definitely not at the Sons of Destruction's clubhouse, and in fact, I’m not sure anyone else knows about this incident. From what I gathered in the phone call, they aren’t official members yet, which means they don’t have the backing of their club.
Reaper must be thinking the same thing as we pull into the gravel lot of an old meatpacking plant and park our bikes. “I think these idiots are here alone.”
“I can take them out myself,” I tell my brothers.
“The hell you will,” Rogue tells me, palming the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans.
“We’ll let you be the hero, but you’re not going in alone.” Reaper's word is law, and I’m thankful for his level head at the moment.
We spread out around the perimeter, checking for any guards or lookouts. Of course, there are none. Idiots. Not that I’m complaining. It certainly makes our job easier, though I hate that Mika had to go through any of this at all.
I stand with one hand on the back door to the warehouse, the other hand wrapped around my gun.
My muscles ripple with tension, but I take a cleansing breath, relaxing a bit, knowing I have the full force of my brothers behind me.
With one final nod, I shove the door open and barge inside, gun first.
It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but when I do, I seethe at what I see. Mika is tied to a metal chair with duct tape over her precious lips. Her eyes cut to mine, relief flooding her features. Thank Christ, she’s okay.
“What the fuck?” one of the kidnappers shouts. He spins around on unsteady feet, and I wonder if he’s drunk. The man fumbles with a gun in his pocket and then belches loudly, confirming my suspicions.
“Heath, you shit-stain, how did you let this happen?” If that one’s Heath, then this one must be Grant.
He seems to be a leader of the operation, though that’s not saying much.
Grant is tall, broad-shouldered, and has a thick torso.
He looks like he could throw a punch and take one, too. I wonder how well he’ll take a bullet.
I squeeze the trigger, aiming for his shoulder, though all I want to do is see a bullet between his eyes. However, I don’t want Mika to watch me kill her only family. I’m her family now, but I still hate the thought of her witnessing any more violence.
The shot echoes around the empty warehouse, quickly followed by Grant’s agonizing, high-pitched scream.
“Oh shit,” Heath mutters, frozen in place as he stares at his brother writhing on the ground.
His hand is still on his gun, though it’s shaking uncontrollably.
I doubt that he has any aim at all, especially under the influence, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t accidentally fire off a shot and hurt someone.
Reaper takes a step toward him, causing the man to stumble backwards on his ass.
His gun skates across the floor, where Rogue stops it with his foot and picks it up.
Reaper holds Heath down with a boot on his neck, enjoying the way this pathetic motherfucker cries and begs for his life.
Reaper looks at me and nods, signaling for me to go get my girl.
I’m next to her in an instant, kneeling in front of her and looking my precious woman over for signs of injury.
I make quick work of her restraints, then focus on the duct tape on her mouth.
“I’m so sorry, baby girl. This might hurt a little.
” She nods and squeezes her eyes closed while I rip the tape off her mouth as quickly as possible.
She gasps and falls forward into my open arms, clinging to me with all of her strength. I hold her close, burying my nose into the top of her head and breathing her in. Mika is trembling in my arms, her chest heaving with heavy sobs.
“I thought you were dead,” she cries.
I peel her off my chest just enough to look her in the eye. “You were worried about me?” She nods. “Jesus, Mika, I was so terrified when I got your call. But you did so well. You were so smart to call and give me the information you did.”
“You saved me.”
“No, sweet girl. You saved yourself.”
I reluctantly untangle myself from my woman, though I keep an arm around her waist as I help her walk through the large building and out to my bike.
I thought she would be relieved to finally be free and away from her foster brothers, but when she sees my motorcycle, she squeezes my hand and pulls me backwards, roughly.
Before I can ask her what’s wrong or what she’s doing. Mika shoves me back with a surprising amount of force and then sprints toward my bike. She throws herself on top of it as if jumping on a grenade, screaming the whole time that I need to back up.
I’m stunned into silence for a few moments.
When nothing happens, I move slowly toward her so as not to spook her.
My girl has been through so much in the last few days, and she might be having some kind of stress response, but I’m not sure.
All I know is she doesn’t feel safe, which means I failed.
“No, Shadow,” she pleads. “I won’t let them kill you.”
“They’re not going to hurt you, me, or anyone ever again,” I say softly, trying to reason with her.
“But there’s a bomb on your bike!” she shouts. “They said they put a bomb on your bike and would blow you up if I didn’t leave with them.”
I wrap my arms around Mika and toss her over my shoulder, running across the lot before setting her down. “Stay.”
Of course, as soon as I turn around and head back to the bike, I hear her footsteps crunch on the gravel behind me. I look over my bike, not convinced those two morons inside know how to make a bomb or place it discreetly.
When I get to the back wheel, I see a blinking red light.
My eyes widen, but I try not to let the fear show.
I bend down, and the closer I look, the more I see it for what it really is.
It’s just a GPS tracker, nothing more. Still, out of an abundance of safety, I check out the rest of my bike before yanking off the device and smashing it under my boot.
“Not a bomb,” I tell Mika. She rushes forward and throws herself into my arms. I catch her, just like I always will.
In the heat of the moment, I needed to get her out of the way so I could eliminate the threat, and that’s exactly what she tried to do for me as well.
“You threw yourself on a bomb for me,” I say more to myself than to her.
“Don’t ever do that again,” I tell her more sternly.
“It wasn’t a bomb, though,” Mika tries to joke. Her voice is shaky, and her throat is clogged with tears. My sweet girl must be crashing from the adrenaline, just like I know I will soon as well.
“That’s not the point. You believed there was a bomb on my bike that could kill me, and yet you…
You sacrificed yourself. For me. For me,” I emphasize again.
I’m still trying to comprehend why someone so radiant, kind, and beautiful would offer their life for mine.
“Promise me you’ll never put yourself in danger like that. ”
Mika tilts her head up, and I look down at her, our noses brushing. “You can’t ask me to do something that you wouldn’t do. I know you’d choose to save me every time. You’re worthy of saving, too.”
I pressed my lips to her forehead, nose, and the corner of her mouth. “We saved each other,” I whisper. “Now let’s get home.”
Mika nods, the last of her strength leaving her. I get her loaded on my bike, taking the ride extra slow so as not to jostle her too much in her weakened state. It’s never felt so good to be on my way home with my woman on the back of my bike.