16. Cupid
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CUPID
Club business kept me back in Loveland longer than I expected.
With the Durango chapter smuggling the next load of guns and ammunition to us in four days, I needed to work out the logistics of the delivery with my crew, making sure everyone understood what their assignments were and where to be for Friday’s operation to run smoothly.
When things wrapped up, I quickly sent a text message to Vanessa, letting her know I was running behind, but I would see her soon.
I didn’t want her upset and assuming I stood her up when I wasn’t there on time.
I may not have a ton of experience with committed relationships, but I’m wise enough to understand that clear communication goes a long way in keeping a partner happy, and I sure want to keep Vanessa on cloud nine.
I ride my bike like a bat out of hell all the way to Fort Collins, eager to get my hands on my little baddie again. If I’m going to be late, I’d do my damndest not to be excessively behind time.
Cruising up the dark street, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me for a split second when I saw figures fighting in the middle of the road until I realized with utter horror the scene before me was no figment of my imagination.
A woman struggles to break free of a man attempting to shove her into a cargo van.
Furious, I roll my throttle back, accelerating toward the van to stop the abductor from taking the woman.
It’s not until the woman falls in the road with her honey-brown tendrils spilling around her face that I realize it’s Vanessa, and a man is hobbling toward her, ready to snatch her.
Something inside me goes haywire, red filling my vision and my veins coming to the surface of my skin, thrumming like a heartbeat.
I’ve felt rage before, but nothing of this magnitude.
Seeing the woman who has captured my mind, body, and soul sprawled out on the cold cement road and possibly hurt has me wanting to do bodily harm to the man advancing on her.
The perpetrator limps along, closing in on Vanessa…
Not a chance in hell.
The thug is too focused on my woman to realize I’m running him down until I’m already on top of him.
I skid around him on my bike, leaving tire marks on the pavement and a thick cloud of exhaust. The smell of burning rubber penetrates the air as I circle him and Vanessa on my hog, again and again, hoping to disorient the fucker and distract him from Vanessa.
The guy appears startled, his eyes bulging with shock beneath his balaclava. He spins in a circle on his heels, following me on my bike. Judging by the growing look of concern in his eyes, he’s probably freaked out by who I am and what I’m doing.
As he should be. Nobody touches what’s mine and goes unpunished.
And Vanessa is definitely mine.
When I finally come to a screeching halt, I’m off my bike and on him faster than he can blink. My hand fists around the collar of his shirt while my other fist swings forward to punch him square in the face.
“You think you can take my woman, do you?” I roar in his face before I punch him again, harder. The guy drops like a sack of potatoes, unmoving.
The van nearby fires to life, it’s headlights blinding me from seeing who’s behind the wheel. A man holding his masked face as if he’s afraid it might fall off takes a running leap into the open side door of the van before it takes off down the road.
“FUCK!” I shout, fisting my hair and pissed that the others got away from me.
“Cupid?” Vanessa whispers weakly from where she lies on the ground.
Worried, I go to her, kneeling in front of her. I tenderly brush her hair away from her face, afraid to touch her when I’m not sure where she might be injured. “I’m here, Psyche, and I won’t let anything happen to you. Tell me what hurts.”
“M—My head,” she says, wincing. “I hit him.”
The assailant who jumped into the van holding his face comes to mind. “Are you telling me you hit the fucker with your head?!”
“Twice.” She moans, closing her eyes.
My fingers flutter over her face anxiously. She may have a head injury. “No, no, no, Vanessa. Stay awake. I need you to stay awake until Scalpel examines you.”
Vanessa frowns, her eyes remaining closed. “Who’s Scalpel?”
“My club’s medic,” I say evenly, fighting to keep my anxiety from coming to the surface. I don’t want to alarm her, but the goose egg on her forehead doesn’t look good. She needs to be seen by a health professional—stat.
I yank my cell from my cut, calling Oaks.
He answers on the first ring. “Why are you calling me when you’re with your woman?”
“Oaks, I need you and Scalpel to come to Fort Collins—NOW! Bring a good handful of our crew, too. No cuts. No hogs. Tell Crypt he can drive my truck. But I need you here as fast as you can.”
I ramble off Vanessa’s address, looking around the deserted street to see if anyone in the area overheard the commotion. All the windows are dark or have closed curtains. It’s at least one thing I don’t need to worry about.
Oaks must hear the worry in my tone. “What’s going on?”
“Vanessa was almost abducted. I have one asshole knocked out, but the others got away. She’s hurt—a head injury. I need Scalpel.”
“Holy shit! Okay, I’m rounding up the guys.” He yells to the surrounding men at Whiskey Wheelers to get in the trucks we keep on-site for smuggling operations.
“I want this sick fuck brought back to Loveland for questioning,” I hiss down the line to Oaks, moving away from Vanessa to avoid her hearing what I say next.
“I also need Vanessa’s apartment cleared out.
It isn’t safe anymore—the traffickers likely know where she lives and I’m not leaving her as sitting bait in an apartment with shitty security. ”
Truck doors slam on the other end of the line as Oaks and our crew head to Fort Collins. “Understood. Are you moving her in with you, or are we putting her in a safe-house?”
“Mine,” I say without hesitation. “I want her entire apartment packed and hauled tonight. Her space is small—it won’t take long to move everything. But leave the couch. She hates that thing.”
“Okay, we’re en route. We’ll be there soon.”
I’m about to hang up when Oaks says, “It’s going to be okay, Cupid. She’ll be okay. Just take care of her until we get there.”
Not realizing how much I needed reassurance that my woman would be fine, I let out a shaky sigh. “Thanks, Oaks.”
“No problem, Prez.” And then he disconnects.
After pocketing my cell, I carefully scoop Vanessa into my arms. She feels too light, reminding me just how fragile she is and how hard she must have fought to keep those big bastards at bay.
“You’re strong, Psyche. I’m so damn proud of you for fighting. So damn proud,” I whisper against her tender face, kissing her gently on her cheek as I rise to my feet.
The gimpy fucker I knocked out squirms on the ground, groaning in pain. He blinks up at me, probably confused about what is happening.
Anger bubbles underneath my skin, wanting to kill him, but refraining. My crew and I need to interrogate him, as well as torture him, to understand who tried to take my woman and who’s behind these other abductions. After that, I will happily end his miserable life.
I stand over him, cradling Vanessa in my arms like the treasured possession she is. “You shouldn’t have messed with her.” And then I kick him in the face with the heel of my biker boot.
The attacker’s eyes roll back in his head and he’s out like a light, or at least out long enough for me to lay Vanessa down in her bed before coming back to haul his ass inside and restrain him.
Vanessa stirs in my arms, whimpering.
“I’ve got you, Butterfly,” I tell her, walking to her apartment.
I climb the stairs, stalking towards her door without a soul exiting their apartment. Great neighbors this group is. You could be screaming bloody murder and they would rather pretend they heard nothing.
Juggling Vanessa in my arms, I dig her apartment key out of the front pouch of her backpack and unlock her door. I avoid turning on the lights, knowing light sensitivity is a possibility with a concussion, and I truly don’t want to cause her anymore pain.
When I lay her out on her bed, I gently place a kiss on her lips. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I hurry from her apartment, rushing back downstairs and out onto the street. The fucker is still there, laying starfish on the pavement with his mouth hanging open and his eyes closed.
“Asshole,” I mutter, yanking my belt out of my pant loops and tying it around the dick’s wrists. The last thing I need is this fucker waking up and going ape-shit while I’m carrying him upstairs.
Hefting the big fucker over my shoulders in a fireman’s carry, I take him inside the complex to Vanessa’s apartment.
Inside, I dump him on the couch of sin, shoving my bandana from my back pocket into his mouth.
If he wakes up, he won’t be able to scream for help.
I find some scarves in Vanessa’s micro closet to tie up her attacker like some Shibari sub.
With the perpetrator restrained and unable to go anywhere if he wakes, I go back outside to retrieve my hog from the middle of the road and park it along the curb. I note the streetlights being busted on the one side of the street Vanessa was likely to walk.
This was planned. She was stalked on her way home from work and attacked.
I go back inside Vanessa’s apartment, close the door, and kneel before her on the side of the bed where I laid her. I brush her unruly hair out of her face, careful to avoid the massive contusion on her forehead.
“Stay with me, Vanessa. Help is on the way, and I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear.”