Chapter 4 Bella
Determined not to show fear, I walked right up to Scorpion. He stood in the shadows between the restrooms and an emergency exit. The second I was within reach, he grabbed my upper arms and slammed me into the wall. My back met the stiff wood paneling, and I winced.
“You will wait for instructions. No more questions.”
Despite being at a disadvantage, I wasn’t backing down. “I’ve done that for a week. I need to talk to Brianna.”
His upper lip curled into a snarl, making the scar stretch tight on his face. “I will call. You stay silent.”
Nodding, I watched as he kept one hand around my arm and the other fished in his jacket for his phone. He swiped across with his thumb and opened his contacts, dialing the number. I heard three rings before the familiar voice of the kidnapper answered.
“Where is the girl?”
“At work.”
“You there?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Good.” He sounded far too pleased.
“Bella wants to talk to her sister.”
“I don’t give a fuck, Boris. We have work to do.”
Boris. The scorpion tattoo guy with the scar had a name, after all.
“Is the sister still alive?”
A string of curse words came through the phone as the kidnapper started yelling in another language. It sounded Slavic to me, but I wasn’t sure if he spoke Polish, Bosnian, or something else entirely.
Boris remained calm, but his grip on my arm tightened.
Not enough to cause additional pain but enough to betray his agitation.
They spoke for a couple of minutes but never returned to English.
My gaze swept over the big man in front of me, and I contemplated kicking him in the balls and running from him, fleeing the bar, and heading straight to the police station.
I should never have cooperated with criminals, but all I kept thinking about was all the crime shows I’d watched and how the FBI and police managed to screw up abductions and negotiations. Brianna’s life wasn’t something I would risk, no matter how stupid it seemed.
There was a strange clanging sound on the other end of the line, and then I heard a door open, followed by a whimper.
“How is my little pet?”
“Fuck you!” Bree swore, her bravery and spirit still intact.
Relief flashed through my body, and I opened my mouth to call out her name when Boris slapped a palm over it.
I tried to fight him, but he shook his head, staring into my eyes with a fierceness that promised pain if I didn’t comply.
“Ah, I shall enjoy breaking you, little troublemaker.”
Troublemaker? What did that mean?
My stomach churned as I nearly gagged, trying not to think about what Bree had suffered over the last week. I managed to shake my head, pointing to the phone.
Boris remained impassive. “What are your orders, boss?”
“Wait for my text. Our visitor is coming to Henderson. He should arrive soon.”
My eyes widened, filling with tears when I heard Bree scream, and the dark laughter on the other end abruptly cut off when the kidnapper hung up.
Boris dropped his hands and backed away, staring at me with an expression that could only be described as neutral. Something in his dark eyes betrayed a hint of emotion, though. He turned his head and ticked his chin toward the bar. “Back to work.”
“Why?”
He frowned. “It is your job.”
“No. Why us?”
He didn’t answer, waiting on me to obey.
With a sigh, I returned to the bar, picking up a clean towel and wiping down the surface, cleaning the stack of glasses by the sink, and every other task I could think of that didn’t draw attention.
Inside though, I was fuming. How dare these assholes take my sister and expect me to sit around at their beck and call.
What the fuck was this about? What kind of trouble did Bree stumble upon?
An hour later, I felt mentally drained and still didn’t have answers. I needed a plan, but I didn’t know enough of the variables to do a damn thing without all the pieces of this puzzle.
My determination was dwindling along with the hope that I would find Bree and bring her home unharmed.
I didn’t pay attention when the front door opened and I heard a customer enter.
There wasn’t enough left inside me at the moment to offer a pretty smile and shake my tits, using my charm to gain extra tips.
Not after hearing that my sister was fighting off the kidnapper and whatever he wanted to do to her.
Several minutes went by, and then I turned around, finding a rugged, handsome, bad-boy biker seated in front of me. He was every fantasy I’d ever indulged after watching Sons of Anarchy and the Mayans.
His leather cut covered a t-shirt tight enough to hug his muscles but not in that too-tight, testosterone-overloaded, bodybuilder way.
No, he was perfectly delicious—two-day-old scruff, dark hair a bit overgrown and curling at his nape, draping over his forehead in that sexy way all women adored.
Dark ink covered his arms in full sleeves and crept partway up his neck.
Thick, chunky rings with skulls and a raven’s beak adorned a couple of fingers but no wedding ring, not that I expected him to wear one.
Gray eyes, like a stormy sky, took in everything around him, and he noticed the two goons at the bar with a smirk.
I couldn’t help staring as I noticed the patches on his leather vest. Nomad. Crow. Devil’s Murder MC.
His name is Crow. I was familiar with the concept of road names and the vest motorcycle club members referred to as a “cut.” A tiny bird with black wings was tattooed above his right eye, and then I understood part of the reason he was called Crow.
My insecurities vanished, and I couldn’t wait for a second longer to snag his attention.
“Hey, Mr. Tall, Dark, & Handsome, what ya havin’?” I asked, flirting shamelessly.
The biker’s head snapped up in my direction, and he noticed me for the first time. Noticed wasn’t really the right word. He didn’t just stare at me, he devoured me with his hungry gaze.
His brows shot up briefly, followed by a slow, seductive, panty-dropping smile that probably got this man more pussy than a wad of cash in a whore house.
When he spoke, the deep, throaty timbre made me weak in the knees.
I didn’t want him to shut up. The man could talk about the weather or whatever the hell he wanted as long as I could hear that sexy baritone.
And then this smooth talkin’, honey-tongued devil asked me to marry him.
My. Heart. Skipped.
From that moment on, I think I was lost. Whatever I managed to say in reply had him all smiles. I could hardly focus on my job or anything else.
The leather wearing stud had a commanding way about him that caused my lady bits to quiver with need.
I wanted a long hard ride on his Harley and his cock, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
A man like that fucked as beautiful as he looked, and I wanted to find out exactly what he was packin’ below the belt.
He wrote down his number and placed it in my palm, making me promise to text or call. Hell yeah. This girl was gettin’ some biker dick later, and the smile on my face proved how thrilled I was about it.
My happiness was short-lived.
Boris called me over to refill their drinks and the beers they also started drinking. I was probably out a hundred dollars tonight from their bill. My tips would barely cover it.
When I turned around, I found Lou with a big smile, chatting it up with Crow. The two seemed friendly and left the bar, retreating to one of the private rooms. Well, shit. My shift was almost over.
I’d have to contact Crow later.
Boris rose from the bar and ticked his head to the bathroom again. Wonderful. My new favorite way to meet with criminals. Insert heavy sarcasm here.
I followed him and stood with my arms across my chest, glaring as he gave me the same bored expression. “The boss sent instructions. He expects a reply.”
“Why did I need to come over here to learn that?” I asked, annoyed.
“You will check your phone now.”
Fine. He wanted me to see it and not blow off his boss.
Tugging my cell out of my apron, I swiped across the screen and froze, staring down at the words like they would miraculously change. This couldn’t be right.
Unknown:
Get into the Devil’s Murder clubhouse and drop off the package.
Instructions to follow.
Tell no one. Gain Crow’s trust.
My head lifted, and I couldn’t hide my surprise. “Why?”
Boris shrugged. “He will text with the drop-off location and further instructions.”
My shoulders drooped. “My shift is over.”
“Go home. Wait for text.”
For some reason, I just wanted to cry. Nothing in my life ever seemed to go right.
The last week painfully punctuated that point.
My sister was kidnapped and probably traumatized.
I didn’t know if I would ever see her again.
My jewelry business wasn’t thriving as I had hoped.
I met a guy who could have been something special, and now I had to deceive him into trusting me.
What a mess!
The only thing I could do was follow through and keep Bree and myself alive.
JUST AS I SETTLED BEHIND the wheel of my car, my stomach rumbled.
I didn’t eat all night, and now I was starving.
IHOP was just around the corner, and I needed food.
The restaurant was barely open this early, and I got seated right away.
Once my belly was full, I stood up and headed toward the exit.
Thoughts of Crow entered my mind, and I wondered how long he had been on the road. He seemed a bit dusty at the bar, not that it diminished his appeal in any way.
On a whim, I decided to order takeout and get Crow breakfast. A man like that probably had a big appetite and needed more than liquor to get through the day.
The sky was growing brighter as I headed outdoors, and I tossed on my sunglasses, leaning against the restaurant’s exterior, trying to decide what to say to lure him my way.
Traffic was picking up as the city awakened, coming to life on a Monday morning as people headed to work, picked up coffee, and rushed to their place of employment. I loved not having to live that grind of a nine-to-five job. Wasn’t my style. I didn’t see the appeal, but Brianna loved it.
The throaty roar of a motorcycle caught my attention as I scanned the vehicles at the intersection, noticing Crow on his bike. Damn. Talk about coincidence. I fired off a text, and he immediately answered. Feeling a bit bold, I told him he looked hot.
Crow’s head swiveled left and then right, noticing me right away. That man sure looked happy to see me.
I felt a twinge of guilt and shoved it aside, giving him a welcoming smile as he rolled to a stop in front of me. I picked up the container with his breakfast and sauntered his way, offering up the food and plenty of promise.
None of his husky, innuendo-driven replies were lost on either of us. I dated a few bad boys in my past but never got lucky enough to ride on the back of a Harley. I’d always been curious if the hype lived up to the expectation.
As I sank onto his leather seat and he settled between my thighs, I knew I wanted at least one night with Crow to find out if the attraction was more than a fleeting romp between the sheets.
There was something about him, more than charisma and confidence.
When he stared into my eyes at the bar, I caught a glimpse of a wounded soul.
My Gram always said I had a knack for finding them.
With my arms around his waist and the wind in my hair, I never felt freer than I did at that moment in the Nevada sunshine, holding onto this biker as my fingers lightly caressed the indentation of his abs.
He occasionally let a hand drift to my leg like he couldn’t hold himself back from touching me.
His presence was intoxicating, a breath of fresh air I desperately needed.
I felt almost lost when we pulled onto my driveway, and the ride was over. I’d have done almost anything to keep hearing his husky voice and feeling the buzz of his commanding presence.
We made some small talk, and he asked for my keys so a prospect could bring my car home since I’d left my baby behind at IHOP. I handed them over, trusting he wouldn’t take my Mustang and run. A man like this lived by his word and code. I knew I had nothing to worry about.
Crow asked for some sugar, which I thought was a cute strategy to have my lips touch somewhere on his body. After a sisterly peck on his cheek, I walked to my door, hoping he watched every swish of my ass.
He did.
“I’ll be ready when you pick me up,” I let him know, catching the predatory gaze in his eyes.
“For?” The twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.
“Our date, Mr. Crow of the Devil’s Murder MC. I’m countin’ on you to show me a good time.”
“No worries there, darlin’.”
“Oh,” I added, “You’re not getting lucky. No pussy for you until I say so. And that’s at least the third date. Before you get any ideas, you should know most guys don’t make it to the second date.”
He looked like he wanted to argue—hell, my lady bits already were—but I wanted to play up the hard-to-get angle and get us both hot and bothered first.
And I wasn’t lying when I said most men didn’t make it to the second date. I had little patience for guys looking to get laid and didn’t bother to learn a single thing about me first.
Crow struck me as different, although he didn’t shy away from the subject of sex. The biker practically announced he wanted in my pants every chance he had, but I still enjoyed the lighthearted banner both times we spoke.
“Baby,” I purred, running my hands over my curves in case he doubted I was into him. “This is worth it.”
“Then I’ll have to charm you into that second date, Bella Heart.”
“We’ll see. My car is the smokey gray ’69 Mustang with black racing stripes. Tell your prospect not to put a scratch on her or face my wrath.”
“Not a scratch,” he promised as I shook my bottom at him and then let myself inside, leaning against the door after it clicked shut. I noticed he took his time backing out of the driveway, his expression thoughtful.
Who said I couldn’t enjoy Crow and save my sister at the same time?
Maybe when this was all over, I could have some actual dates and get to know the real man beneath the leather and behind the patch. Something told me he was worth the extra effort.