Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
There’s nothing like starting your morning off wondering if you can get your pants buttoned.
—Holly to Boone
HOLLY
I was fairly sure that they were going to do the dog fight up big.
They were setting out chairs around a ring.
They were cooking meat on a barbecue. They were setting up kegs.
They were even setting up a couple of tents in preparation for the weather that was set to hit any second.
The rumble of thunder wasn’t distant any longer.
In fact, it was filling the air around us while lightning was lighting up the now-dark night sky every second breath.
Men started arriving at some point, filling the chairs and drinking the beer.
Some of them I knew.
Others I didn’t.
None of them looked like someone I would want to rescue me, though.
The dogs were all barking now. Well, the ones that I figured did the fighting. There were others that were quiet in their pens, looking like they wanted to sink into themselves and disappear out of their skin.
The poor babies.
Anger fueled my every breath as I watched and studied everything that was going on.
I made mental notes of who was there, who was hanging out with whom. Who seemed interested in what was going on, and who seemed uncomfortable.
I probably wouldn’t retain half of it, but I made sure to keep watch. Keep adding information.
Hopefully, some would still be there by the time I finally made it out of this hellhole.
And I would be making it out.
At some point, they’d slip up. A mistake would be made. Then, I’d use that moment of distraction to escape.
I’d grown up in the wilderness. I’d learned to fish using a stick, some fishing line, and a hook. I knew how to shoot. I knew how to survive in the mountains. I knew how to do it all.
The door to the shed opened, and the man from earlier burst inside.
“Since you’re here, we’re going to get you to fix our dogs up later.” He smiled. “You didn’t tell me you were Denver’s girlfriend.”
That news was a surprise to me.
I didn’t share that surprise with him, though.
“I live with him,” I lied. “Been together for a few weeks. It’s new.”
“New enough that he won’t care that you’re missing?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, he’ll care.”
And he would.
I’d done a lot of soul searching in the few hours that I’d been stuffed into this cage, and in those hours, I finally came to terms with a few things.
Those things being mainly that I’d given Denver a bad shake.
He’d been put into an impossible situation, and he’d come out the best way that he could.
I’d been hurt in the process, but I’d been hurt less by him fixing what he did as compared to what would’ve happened had I found out that I’d lost access to my father’s land because of our financial decisions over the years.
“Well, he didn’t care that much because he left,” he explained. “Stopped by. I showed him the proof that you were there and then left. And he was satisfied.”
I highly doubted it.
But there was no reason to inform him that his entire operation was about to be blown to smithereens.
Denver would be coming back.
Likely with his club members at his back.
When that happened, this man in front of me would be wishing he hadn’t taken me.
He smiled a leering smile that had my insides flinching, then he kicked my cage right where my fingers were.
I narrowly managed to get them away from the metal in time for his foot to connect.
The door slammed behind him, and I breathed out shakily.
My eyes went to the part of the cage where he’d kicked, and my heart skipped a beat.
The cage was dented in, and a few of the loops where the top connected with the bottom were now unlinked.
My heart leaped into my throat, and I started to work the cage apart.
I’d tried earlier, but the tension was too strong for me to move it.
But now that, that there was an opening started…
The dog fighting started, and I tried to block it out as best as I could.
My heart was literally breaking, and I was crying uncontrollably as the whimpers broke my heart into tiny little pieces.
That sadness and anger fueled my desperation to get out.
And eventually, I did.
I got out through a space that was barely enough for me to fit through. As it was, the roughened metal dug into my skin as I pushed myself through the opening I was able to give myself between two panels.
Angry lines appeared on my belly, and I knew that I’d be sporting some bruises in the morning.
My next obstacle was the shed.
The door was locked—I’d heard that lock click into place the moment the man had left earlier—but the shed itself was laughably wobbly.
It took me no time to find two boards next to each other that were barely nailed in on the opposite side of the dog fighting to my right.
After I got out, I took a look around at my surroundings.
There were cars everywhere on this side.
People milling about, too.
Some women, so my presence wouldn’t be too noticeable.
I stood up like I was supposed to be there and started walking with purpose.
I made it to the trees and made my way to the house.
I’d just gotten to the yard line when a commotion besides the dog fighting caught my attention.
A motorcycle.
My heart leaped into my throat as excitement started to pour through me.
But just as I started to step out toward the sound of the bike, I had this feeling of ‘don’t do it’ and stopped.
Since I’d already ignored that inner voice trying to keep me alive once today, I decided to listen to it and stayed in the trees.
Thank God I did, too.
When the bike pulled to a stop, the biker—clearly wearing a Dixie Wardens MC cut—got off the bike and walked right up to my kidnapper. They did that manly handshake, then walked toward the house.
Their voices were pitched low, so I missed most of what they were saying until they got close enough.
“He doesn’t have a girlfriend. It’s just his tenant,” the biker was saying.
I still couldn’t see his face thanks to the dark and the beanie pulled down over his head, so I couldn’t identify him.
Not to mention he was wearing head to toe black.
He had a hoodie underneath his cut. His hood was pulled up, and the beanie kept most of his face hidden.
I could clearly see the cut on his shoulders, though.
There was no hiding that. Not with the sky illuminating every few seconds due to the lightning.
“Will he stop looking for her?” my kidnapper asked.
God, I hoped not.
“Nope,” the club member said. “But I made sure to stash the truck somewhere where it could be questionable if she fell down the mountain. Tossed a few of her things down there, too. They’ll likely find those tomorrow.”
“Good,” Mr. Kidnapper said. “Let me know if that changes. Are you staying to watch?”
“Not tonight,” he grumbled. “It’s all hands on deck looking for the woman. They’ll notice if I don’t actually look.”
“And you’re sure that you can keep your stuff straight?” my kidnapper asked. “You can work both sides?”
The biker scoffed. “Been doing it for years, man. This is just one more day.”
The deep timbre of his voice was soft but full of promise.
He could keep himself hidden.
At least, he thought he could.