Chapter 8
Fletch
As Mari gets her purse and the coat I loaned her from the trailer, I make a fast phone call.
“Prez, you in town for that appointment?” I ask immediately when Ridge answers.
“Finishing now.”
“This is urgent. I need you to head off a situation at Gary’s Hardware.”
The call means it’s critical. I don’t waste his time on things I can handle. It’s the way our club works. Roles. Jobs. Responsibility.
“I’m one block away,” he clips and in the background he tells the attorney the meeting is over.
“Who and what?” he asks, getting right to the point.
“A young woman needs to be intercepted. Name’s Cassie. Five foot nothing. Nineteen years old. Don’t let her go in the hardware store or talk to any fucking oil workers. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Copy. On it.” Ridge hangs up.
Mari bounds down the stairs. Her hair is going a thousand directions, her eyes are wild with concern. She half-yells, “We have to go.”
“Prez is on it.”
Shoving her arms in, she snaps, “I don’t care if the National Guard is on it. I need to talk to my sister.”
After helping her fasten the helmet, I climb on the bike and she plows into me, throwing herself on the back. “How fast will this thing go?”
“Faster than you’ll ever ride.”
It takes eight minutes to reach the center of town. Half the usual time. Mari’s got both hands fisted in my cut. Her legs are locked around me. She hasn’t said a word.
When the hardware store comes into view, Ridge’s truck is in front. Mari screeches behind me, “What is that man doing?”
“Uh…” Shit. “Hell if I know.”
Ridge has a woman in his arms as he strides toward his truck. Mari scrambles off the bike, latching onto the club prez like a dog in a bite drill. “Put my sister down!”
Ridge is a big bastard. A former SWAT team door breacher. Stone-cold he looks down at Mari, then at me. Still doesn’t put her sister down.
Cassie is yelling, pounding on Ridge’s cut. “You big animal!”
Everyone on Main Street is staring. There are a dozen phones pointed our way.
“Maybe you should put her down,” I tell Ridge.
“Nope. She kicked the shit out of my shin.” And that’s it. He carries the woman around to the passenger side of his truck.
Before Mari can follow, I grab her in a bear hug. “She’s okay. Ridge doesn’t hurt women. Let’s take this somewhere else. We’ve got a lot of eyes on us.”
She wiggles for a second, until I tell her, “I promise she’s safe. You’re safe. We got you. See, he’s just buckling her into his truck.”
But he’s also talking to Cassie and fuck only knows what he’s saying because she looks shocked.
I tip my chin for Ridge’s attention and he comes around the front of his truck. Mari rushes to her sister.
“You owe me.”
“Whatever you need, just say the word,” I reply.
He glances toward the truck, and the usual mask he wears falls into place, but he stands taller, as if he’s gearing up for battle.
“There’s been a development,” I warn.
He snorts. “Involving a nail gun?”
“This is a helluva lot more complicated.”
His brow lowers and there’s a tic below his right eye. “Let me guess. Women?”
We both stare toward his truck where Mari’s leaning inside the open door, and Cassie’s face is red with anger.
“I’m moving them into the compound. Cabin 1.”
His head whips my way. “Both of them?”
“They’re a package deal. Cassie’s got type 1 diabetes. Mari doesn’t want her to live by herself. But the big issue is that an oil field guy is hassling Mari. I know the type and I don’t like it one fucking bit. He’s been stalking her. Touched her without consent.”
He lets out a rough curse. “Well fuck,” he mutters. “What do you need me to do?”
“We’re going to get their stuff and move them in now.”
“Lead the way,” he calls over his shoulder as he opens the door to his pick-up. Cassie snarls at him, but he snaps the door closed before I can make out what she says.
I motion for Mari. “Let’s get your things.”
“Party’s over,” I growl as I throw a wave toward the gathered crowd.
More phones appear as I start the bike and rev the engine. Mari pins her nose to the back of my cut and I swear, I feel her laughing as she wraps her arms around me.
Four blocks later we pull up to a sagging apartment building. There’s two stories and four apartments. The lawn is bare dirt, paint is peeling, and an old tire is on the front porch.
I hate everything about this place. Ridge climbs out of his truck and gives me a look that matches my own expression.
“Which one is yours?” he asks Mari as her sister slams the passenger side door of his truck.
She stomps past us all, yelling, “This one, idiot.”
I cover my chuckle with a cough. Ridge is loping after her with a string of curses. “You call this a fucking door?” he rages as he kicks the thin wood.
Inside, Cassie’s smarting off to him.
“I’m sorry,” Mari says as she lets me take her hand. “I don’t know what got into her.”
“Ridge has a way of pissing people off. All it takes is a look.”
When she leads me into the apartment, a knife twists in my gut. Mari’s face pinks up, and she clears her throat. “It’s all we could afford while Cassie was still in school.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s get you packed. Have a suitcase?”
A red suitcase flies out of a closet. A boot follows and barely clears Ridge’s head.
For the next five minutes, Mari carries neatly folded clothing, small personal items, and a collection of paperbacks to the suitcase, where I organize them.
Cassie continues to pitch things out of the closet. Ridge has resorted to catching them and stuffing them into a backpack. He still hasn’t stopped cursing.
Ten minutes later the place is almost bare and the damn lump in my throat hasn’t left.
Cassie storms out of the bedroom and crosses her arms. “I don’t understand why this has to happen today. I mean is this some kind of human trafficking? I read about crazy things like this happening in cults.”
She emphasizes cults. Mari stills with a bag of frozen food in her hand.
Her eyes come to me then move to her sister.
Cassie, shaking her head, says, “Mari, please. Don’t be gullible.”
Slowly Mari sets the bag of mixed vegetables down. She clears her throat. “Fletch, I need for you and your friend to go outside.”