Chapter 17 #3
The emergency room was packed with bikers.
Keys had practically set up a mobile computer unit in the visitor area.
Tessa was back, consulting with the Cottonville medical staff.
Bulldog was talking to Scar and Tally to get every detail they could out of the couple of where they had found Ranger so Keys had a starting place to look.
It was unknown how long Ranger had been on the side of the road, though.
From what Ghost had gotten from the pictures Scar had taken, Ranger had dragged himself up from a drainage ditch, through mud and filth, to the side of the road.
He was alive, but the diagnosis wasn’t good. Multiple injection sites on his arms hinted at drug usage of some sort, and he’d clearly been tortured. That was all Ghost knew before Tessa refused to answer any more questions.
Bottom line was that Ranger was in no condition to tell Ghost where Becks was.
Ghost didn’t blame him—he blamed himself.
Becks was in trouble because he’d failed to protect her, and now he was useless in finding her.
He was a fucking SEAL, and yet, he had no one to fight, no place to start his hunt.
He didn’t even know if Becks was still in Mount Grove.
Bulldog approached. Lucky got up from where he was looking at something over Keys’ shoulder to join them.
“Based on the tracks, Scar believes it was a van of some sort that dropped Ranger off. Imprints in the hillside make him think that Ranger was rolled down and was there some time before he crawled his way back up.”
Ghost glanced down at his watch. It was nearly dawn. How long had it been since Ranger and Becks had been together? Then again, there was no evidence they had even been together. What if Ranger had been held in a different place than Becks, and he couldn’t even tell him where to start looking?
Why release Ranger? In the state he was in, chances were that Becks wasn’t in any better shape.
What drug had they used? Ritchie used cocaine, but that wasn’t a good drug to try to control someone.
Cocaine would have made Ranger unpredictable, even stronger.
Hell, the eighties ran on cocaine, and somehow the human race had survived.
It was more likely something like oxy, hydrocodone, speedballs, or heroin.
Downers or hallucinogens to keep him compliant.
Until Ranger was more with it, though, there was no telling how the drugs affected him long term.
Like anything else, some people had a higher resistance, but based on the number of injection sites on his arms, chances were that no amount of natural tolerance would keep him from having some lasting effect.
The police were also present. It had taken some doing for them not to arrest Scar, whom they had mistakenly believed to be the perpetrator even though he was the one who had called 911.
Well, technically Tally would have been the one to call.
Not that it would have mattered overall.
The police would have never gotten their hands on Scar, and God help them if they’d tried touching Tally, but thankfully it had been straightened out before any boys in blue died tonight.
Carlos was working with the locals, since Ranger’s and Becks’ disappearances were a Mount Grove active investigation.
Thanks to the bar explosion, the kidnapping was back page news, and Ghost hoped to keep it that way.
He did not want Ritchie or Cameron to panic under the attention and do something rash.
Becks and Ranger—now just Becks—were safest if Ritchie and Cameron believed the police did not know anything about the stepsiblings’ involvement.
Which begged the question, why did they let Ranger go. Did they get what they needed out of him? If so, then what about Becks?
Ghost felt like something heavy was sitting on his chest. “He needs to be able to tell us where they were keeping them.” He couldn’t stop the sinking feeling that Becks was running out of time.
“Logistically, it doesn’t make sense to release Ranger,” Lucky pointed out. “Do you think he escaped or was let go?”
“Based on the shoe prints that were found at the side of the road, Scar thinks he was let go,” Bulldog answered. “But I agree with you that it doesn’t make sense.”
Ghost saw Tessa reenter the room, and without a word to his VP or SAA, bolted over to her. “Does he know where Becks is?”
Tessa shook her head, frowning. “He thinks they were being kept outside the Gates of Heaven, Ghost. I’m sorry, but I don’t think he’s going to be much help.
Based on the amount of heroin in his system, it’s likely that he’s been high for days.
Not to mention the torture and dehydration.
He’s got some food in his system, but not much.
His chest looks like someone was throwing stones at him.
We’re prepping him now to help him through any withdrawal symptoms that may present.
” From Tessa’s tone, it sounded like she expected there to be many.
“We’ll need you to sign the paperwork to move him to the Psych Ward temporarily. ”
Like most of the club who had joined as single men, they’d each signed over medical and financial power of attorney to Steel as president.
Those who married had since changed that responsibility to their spouse or significant other.
The rest, including Ranger, had been transferred to Ghost when he’d been voted in.
Ghost’s had been Ranger until he’d married Becks.
“Can I see him?” Ghost would sign whatever it was Tessa recommended for Ranger’s care. He trusted her implicitly.
Tessa hesitated, but then nodded. “Just you, and very quickly. And Ghost?” She pointed a finger at him. “Do not lose your temper. Mentally he’s even worse right now than he is physically.”
Ghost did not take offense to her warning. He wasn’t doing too hot himself, but he was certainly doing better than Ranger. “I’ll behave. I just need to know what he knows.”
From Tessa’s expression, she had no hope that Ranger would be able to tell Ghost anything useful.
He followed Tessa back through the halls.
This hospital was bigger than Mount Grove’s, so it took them a minute to get from the visitor waiting room to the emergency department.
The hospital staff certainly weren’t happy about the number of bikers that had entered their hospital in the middle of the night, but they seemed to calm down some when Ghost ordered the club to help out the hospital staff in whatever way they could.
Ranger wasn’t in a secluded room, but on a bed behind a white curtain.
He looked horrible. His white-blonde hair was greasy and matted.
Bruises covered what skin Ghost could see, including circles around his wrists that indicated he’d been restrained.
His face was flushed, though the rest of him looked clammy and sickly.
He was hooked up to an IV, along with monitors for his blood pressure and heart rate. His eyes were closed, and he kept twitching like he couldn’t even find peace in sleep.
Tessa touched his hair gently. “Ranger?”
He blinked his eyes open, and Ghost recognized the haunted look in them. “Becks,” he breathed out. His chest started to shake uncontrollably. “Becks. I need to find Becks.”
Ghost came around Ranger’s other side. “What do you remember? Do you know where you were kept?”
Ranger closed his eyes, shaking his head. “She kept singing to me, keeping me from floating away. I wanted to fly, Ghost.”
Ghost glanced up at Tessa, who looked like she was trying to hold back tears. He reached for Ranger’s hand, hoping to bring him back to reality. “Ranger. I need to find her. Please. Anything. Do you remember anything that will help me find her?”
Ranger licked his lips like he couldn’t get enough saliva into his mouth. “I told her not to sign. Told her I could take it. They won’t touch her. They need her pretty.”
Ghost let out a breath of relief. As much pity as he had for Ranger’s condition, it had sparked a new fear of what Becks was going through. Yet there was no stopping the joy he felt at the knowledge that Becks wasn’t being tortured too.
At least not physically.
As a sailor, Ghost was very aware that some of the deepest wounds were not visible. The trauma Becks had endured over these past several days was no less harrowing than her brother’s physical wounds, and just like with Ranger, Ghost would ensure Becks got whatever help and support she needed.
“Ranger, where? There has to be something you saw or heard, something you recognized.” Ghost was beyond desperate at this point, but Tessa was right that getting angry would help no one.
A tear rolled down Ranger’s cheek. “She’s waiting outside Heaven, man, but I don’t want her to go.”
Ghost opened his mouth to respond, but Tessa reached across the hospital bed and grabbed his arm. She shook her head. “He’s had enough.”
Ghost swallowed back his frustration. He needed to fight something, to destroy it.
His body was still healing from the explosion, including the burns on his hands and chest, along with his cracked ribs, but he didn’t care.
He would eviscerate anything that would bring him a step closer to finding Becks.
Ranger, though, was not that enemy. Ghost squeezed his hand before letting it go. “Get better, man. We’re all here for you.”
His best friend didn’t seem to respond, falling back into that restless, twitchy slumber. Ghost and Tessa left the room, but Tessa didn’t let him get far.
“That’s the second time he’s mentioned gates,” she told Ghost. “There’s got to be something there.”
Ghost was thinking the same thing, but he had no idea what it meant. Where would there be something with gates that would be suitable for holding people against their will? He frowned down at the five-foot-two doctor. “What if it wasn’t gates he was seeing? What if it was bars?”
Tessa’s eyes flew up as she cocked her head. “Like a cage?”