Chapter 13 Gatling
Chapter thirteen
Gatling
“Hold him down,” Baby Doll barked.
My eyes were on fire. My lungs felt like they were about to explode. Every raspy breath I managed to inhale scraped my throat raw, abrasive as sandpaper.
Strong hands clamped onto my legs, my shoulders, my arms, pinning me to a hard surface—a table, I think.
“He took her,” I growled. “He fucking took her. Right in front of me. I have to go after her, I have to—”
“We’re working on it.” Blackbeard’s voice, tinged with impatience. “Sit still. You’re not going anywhere right now when you’re bleeding all over the place.”
Through the blur of my vision, I saw him bent over my torso alongside Baby Doll. A flash of white latex gloves. The slosh of liquid. The gleam of a hooked needle and the black line of thread.
Then the bright, searing pain of antiseptic. I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth.
“Fuck!”
“I’ve never heard him say this many words together at the same time,” Spike said, wryly.
“Asshole,” I croaked.
He patted my shoulder.
“Save some of that piss ‘n’ vinegar for getting your girl back.”
My girl. Kelsie.
Sunshine.
After she texted me, I dropped everything to go straight to her. But when I reached Noah’s house, she had already left for work. Baby Doll was on watch, and she reported that she’d seen nothing out of the ordinary.
I pushed the speed limit across town, cutting through alleys to shave off a few extra seconds.
When I arrived at the day care, he was there. Kelsie’s stalker. Dragging her toward a gray Sedan.
I saw red and everything was a hazy blur of rage like nothing I’d ever experienced in my life. I didn't even think to draw my gun.
I knew what anger felt like. Deep down, I’m an angry man, buried under a layer of self-loathing and loneliness, patched over with layers of PTSD. Angry at the world. Angry for every time I had pulled the trigger and a life was ended at that moment, because of me.
That anger blazed, seeing this strange man put his hands on my woman, the mother of our child.
Even when I was blinded by pepper spray, even when I felt like I was breathing in fire, I kept pushing forward. I kept trying to get to Kelsie.
In the end, I failed.
Thank God for Baby Doll. She had the presence of mind to follow me to the day care. When she found me bleeding on the pavement, she called in reinforcements. The Blackjacks rallied behind me, taking me back to the clubhouse.
Baby Doll and Blackbeard were stitching me up. Big G and Hot Shot were soothing the pepper burns on my face with a damp washcloth, soaked in milk. Vlad, Spike, and Tex were keeping me pinned down. Kingpin held an oxygen mask over my face, pumping air into my abused lungs.
“What’s her name?” he asked, his voice quiet despite the chaos.
I coughed. My face felt like a puffy tomato and I probably looked like one, too.
“Kelsie,” I rasped. “She’s my…”
She’s my everything.
Kingpin held my gaze with a nod of understanding.
“We’ll get her back, all right?”
Before I could respond, the front door opened. I’d sent Crash to fetch Noah, and they burst into the room now.
“Jesus Christ, Ryker, what the hell happened?”
Vlad stopped Noah from getting too close, pushing him down into a nearby chair. He kept his large hand on Noah’s shoulder, partly for support, but mostly to prevent him from moving.
“Kelsie—her stalker—she was kidnapped.” Every word felt like broken glass in my throat. “Some guy—a stranger. I didn’t recognize him. I don’t think she knew him either.”
“Did he…did he do this to you?” Noah exclaimed, incredulous.
“Tried—to stop him.”
Noah swore and ran his hands through his hair with agitation.
“I thought…it’s been so quiet lately that I thought it was over. Damn it, I should have known better. I should have—”
“That’s not helping anyone, kid,” Kingpin cut in with a firm look. “We have video camera footage of the guy’s face from the day care center. Credence is working his magic. We’ll find this guy.”
The baby, I thought.
Did Noah know? Kelsie would tell him first, right? They’re family—brother and sister.
But he made no mention of it.
I expected Noah would protest our less-than-legal methods of handling the situation. But he didn’t.
“I want to help,” he said at last.
“Not a good idea,” Blackbeard muttered without breaking his concentration on my stitches. “You’re agitated, and rightly so. That’s a big fucking risk. No offense, but you’re a wild card to us and we can’t afford that.”
“I don’t give a fuck—” Noah shot back.
Vlad squeezed his shoulder so hard that Noah broke off with a grunt and a grimace of pain. Blackbeard spared a quick glance at him.
“That’s exactly why you need to sit this one out.
Besides, from what I understand, there were witnesses to this kidnapping.
That means the police will be asking questions.
Ryker said that you’re Kelsie’s brother.
The cops will be knocking at your door any minute for a chat.
So, the less you’re involved with us, the better. ”
Noah didn’t like that answer, but he seemed to understand the logic behind it.
“Got him,” Credence announced from a corner of the clubhouse. “Joaquin Olson, thirty-eight years old. Janitor at the gym across the street for two years. Previously lived in Kansas, until his ex-girlfriend took out a restraining order against him. He has an apartment on the south side of town—”
I didn’t need to hear anymore. Brushing the oxygen mask aside, I struggled to sit up.
“I’m not finished yet,” Blackbeard protested.
“And you’re still not breathing right,” Baby Doll added.
Spike braced an arm across my chest, pushing me back down to the table.
“The longer that bastard has my girl, the greater chance she gets hurt,” I countered.
“You’re in no condition—” Baby Doll started.
“Do I look like I give a shit?”
She sighed and snapped her gloves off with a scathing look of disapproval.
“You boys are gonna be the death of me,” she muttered.
Spike let me up reluctantly. I stumbled off the table, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to clear my vision. But my arms and legs were working, so that would have to be good enough. Wobbling to my feet, I grimaced at the pull of tight, tender muscle across my abdomen.
I’d been through worse. Much worse. Frostbite and starvation in the woods. Grenades and bullets and sleep deprivation in the military. This wouldn’t stop me.
I glanced at Kingpin, standing off to the side, arms crossed. He didn’t seem like he was about to prevent me from leaving if that’s what I wanted to do.
“It physically pains you to ask for help, doesn’t it?” he remarked.
Placing a hand on the table to steady myself, I shook my head.
“This isn’t…this isn’t your concern. It’s not club business.”
Kingpin stepped closer and clasped the back of my neck with a firm grip.
“You’re right. This is family business.”
A beat of silence filled the room. Even though my vision was still blurry as hell, I sensed them all standing around me. From President to Prospect, these bikers—my brothers—had gathered to offer their support.
As much as I would have preferred to hunt down this motherfucker on my own, I had to admit that it was much more satisfying to picture the look on Olson's face when he realized I wasn’t the only one coming after him.
“One condition,” I said, my voice raw and throaty.
“Name it,” Kingpin replied.
“The killshot is mine.”
“Deal.”
Joaquin Olson’s apartment was a pig sty. Mounds of laundry in the bedroom that reeked. The linoleum of the bathroom felt tacky under my boots. I tried not to think about that too much.
Since my vision was still too fucked up to see clearly, I couldn’t ride my bike. So I bundled into the cage alongside Big G and Crash. I remembered the way Noah had lingered on the curb, looking bewildered by it all as the club was set into motion like a well-oiled machine.
“We’ll get her back, Noah,” I said.
Her and the baby.
He lifted his gaze to meet mine, his face drawn with worry. The guilt must have been eating him alive. After taking every precaution to keep Kelsie safe, she still slipped through his fingers.
“Gatling,” Blackbeard called. “Take a look at this. In here.”
I followed the sound of his voice to find him standing at the bedroom closet, the doors flung back, clothes shoved aside.
Papering every inch of Olson's closet were pictures of Kelsie. Printed screenshots of her social media accounts. Scraps of paper and sticky notes taped up haphazardly with hastily scrawled passages, professing his undying love for her.
“This fucker’s a freak,” I grumbled.
On a shelf above us were stacked boxes labeled in thick marker that read, unfaithful.
My instincts flared. That can’t be good.
I reached up. Pain sliced across my torso as the stitches tore. Doubling over, I pressed a hand against my stomach, oozing fresh blood.
“Damn it,” Blackbeard said. “This is why you’re supposed to be resting.”
“I’m not sitting on my ass and twiddling my thumbs when Kelsie is with some psycho bastard like him.” I grimaced and gestured at the closet wall. “Just check to see what’s in that box for me, would you?”
“Fine. But don’t get your blood on anything.”
He tugged the box down and lifted the lid. Inside were more pictures of Kelsie, mostly candids, taken when she was out shopping or at lunch with friends. All of them were defaced. Her eyes scratched out with black marker. Or red crayon slashed across the pictures, reading WHORE and SLUT.
“This is why he turned violent.”
Blackbeard held up a picture of me, climbing out of Kelsie’s apartment window.
That night I stayed at her apartment for protection.
Right before we were almost caught by Noah.
I could see part of her face, like the curve of a half moon, gleaming in the shadows.
Her hand rested on my thigh, and the adoration in her eyes was so obvious that it made my heart lurch.
“It looks like Olson didn’t appreciate competition when it came to Kelsie’s affections.” Blackbeard dropped the picture back into the box. “So he got desperate to take her away from you as soon as possible.”
I sucked in a shaky breath, blaming my aching lungs and the lingering effects of inhaling so much pepper spray. But it was more than that.
If this son of a bitch found out that Kelsie was pregnant with my baby, would that push him even deeper into his mania?
“Check this out.” Crash emerged from the living room with a stack of mail in his hands. “Looks like Olson is doing some kind of big building project. He got a bill in the mail for five thousand dollars worth of construction material—steel, electrical wiring, a pump for drainage.”
I glanced around the apartment.
“What the hell would he need that shit for in a dump like this?”
“Run it by Credence,” Blackbeard said. “There’s bound to be a paper trail he can follow.
” Then he pointed at me and gestured to the door.
“You. Out. If you get blood in here, we have to clean it up and that’s a waste of precious time we can’t afford right now.
Get Baby Doll to fix those stitches you tore. ”
I opened my mouth to protest but Blackbeard cut me off.
“No arguing. I don’t want to hear it. You look like hell, by the way. I’d hate to see the state of your lungs if your face is anything to go by. It’s a miracle you’re standing upright at all, let alone mobile.”
With a huff, I rose to my feet.
“Bossy,” I muttered.
“I heard that.”
“Good.”
Blackbeard flicked a glance in my direction before he shooed me out the door. As I made my way out to the cage waiting at the curb, I wondered if this is what it felt like to have a big brother who actually cared. Someone who fussed over you while being a pain in the ass at the same time.