Chapter Fifteen.
April
His? If I was Stone’s, then he was mine, and two could play that game. Firmly, I hooked my hand around his neck and drew Stone closer.
“That goes both ways. You’re mine,” I stated, leaving no room for doubt. “No other women, Stone, no yelling at me for being insecure, no more bullshit.”
“Deal. But get it into your stubborn head, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.
Fuck what society says about being a size zero and eating rabbit food.
Real men want a real woman, one who’s got a figure and padding.
Who the hell wants to bang someone and be poked by hip and rib bones?
I love your curves, always have and always will.
You ever mention the word fat again, and I’ll paddle your backside until you can’t sit down,” Stone threatened.
My eyes narrowed. “If I catch you eyeing up a skinny bitch, I’ll be tying bricks to your balls.”
Stone winced, and I smiled. “April, I broke up with you in the worst way possible, and to this day, I’ll maintain I did it for you.
Sure, looking back, I should have explained everything, but I was a scared kid seeing a long jail sentence ahead of me.
I was never embarrassed to be seen with you, nor was I ashamed of us.
When I looked to the future, you were there for the whole nine yards: marriage, kids, vacations, and growing old together.
I’ve only wanted those things with you.”
Tears choked me as I buried my head in Stone’s chest. Stone had loved me, and I think he did at this point, but I needed to be sure. “Do you still love me?”
“Of course. Nobody came close to my heart, because you’d already claimed it and thrown away the key.
Nothing anyone said or did could erase your memory.
I’ve been in limbo for a decade, and I want to live,” Stone insisted.
“April, I’ve wasted my life since you left with dead-end jobs and throwaway women, who I only used to get off with. None meant shit to me.”
“Does Hellfire?” I asked timidly.
“Yeah. Hellfire is the fuckin’ world to me. The club gave me a reason to move on, something to strive for. I will be a brother and a damn good one.”
“What does that mean for me?”
“That means you are to be my old lady. You’ll be the only woman to ride behind me, and the only one to wear my cut.
I know what popular fiction says about MCs, that we have whores and loads of parties.
A great many do, but not Hellfire. We’re more about being ourselves, letting shit hang out, and creating family.
There’ll never be anyone else apart from you, and I mean that.
What happened before will never happen again. ”
Carefully, I studied Stone and saw the truth in his face. He regretted his actions all those years ago but had never really apologised. I’d thought it was too late for Stone to apologise. Yet a little voice was urging me to crawl into his arms.
Under the spite, indifference, and hate towards Stone was a strong undercurrent of hurt.
Stone had smashed my fragile ego ten years ago, and it hadn’t healed.
I’d needed to hear that it wasn’t me, and that had taken a long time coming.
The wounded part of me sat up and took notice, and I felt the pain subside a little.
Agony had been such a core element of me that it was shocking to feel it ease.
“I am sorry. I regret everything I did to you back then. April, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving how much I love you and showing how regretful I am.”
“Stone, you don’t need to grovel for that long; a few years will be sufficient,” I teased, and Stone blinked before laughing.
“There’s my sassy woman. Babe, I want to stay, but I have to chase this fucker Margrave. Cancel whatever plans you had with Runner, and I’ll take you out this evening.”
“Honestly, I’d already refused him. The guy seemed off, although he was being charming,” I admitted, and Stone’s eyes narrowed.
“Good. Keep away from him. Runner’s bad news. Tonight, we’ll discuss why you and Clara are leaving,” Stone said.
“Oh, I’ve got dinner tonight with Clara. I can’t blow her off.”
“Not a problem, I’ll take two of my favourite ladies out then.” Stone smiled and kissed me again before heading towards his bike. He slung his leg over and moments later roared out.
Harlequin
Margrave was on the run. Jinx had followed him to a mall, and despite his best efforts, he’d lost him.
When Jinx headed back to the car park, Margrave’s vehicle had disappeared.
Jinx was currently riding around Spearfish trying to find the bastard.
I’d checked his usual haunts, and Margrave wasn’t anywhere to be found.
Jinx was kicking himself for letting Margrave give him the slip, but it wasn’t his fault.
He wasn’t a trained PI. The thought kept circling through my mind that Margrave could be running to Julie.
I was damn convinced that he had Julie or had killed her.
By reaching out to all my contacts, I hoped someone would spot Margrave soon.
Like Jinx, I was riding randomly around when Slaughter called me.
“Return to the office,” he instructed.
“Not until I find Margrave.”
“There’s no point driving about like an idiot, wasting gas. Get back here and don’t bother fuckin’ arguing. Do as you’re told, prospect,” Slaughter ordered.
I couldn’t argue. Slaughter was my boss and outranked me as a brother. That didn’t mean I had to like it. I growled an affirmative and hung up. Fuck this for a game of soldiers.
April
The wheel blowing out caught me totally by surprise.
I’d just exited I-90 and was heading into Spearfish.
This was bad timing. Clara had asked me to pick up a parcel in Rapid City, so I’d popped over and was driving back.
That left plenty of time to get ready for this evening.
Stone had texted and said he’d booked a table for seven.
Clara was pleased but wary, naturally so.
“Shit,” I muttered as I skidded, wrestled for control, and finally pulled over safely. I got out of the car muttering and stared at the destroyed tyre. It hadn’t popped as I thought, and when I bent down, I could see the rubber had shredded. Puzzled, I stood back up and headed for the trunk.
There was a spare tyre, and I knew how to change it.
Clara and I once took a course. Not that Clara would ever damage her nails changing, but she could certainly give someone instructions on how to.
I pulled out the spare and lifted the mat to grab the tyre iron.
Deftly, I changed the tyre, and I was putting everything away when an object pressed into my back.
“Drop the tyre iron, do as I say, and you’ll live. Fight, and I’ll pull the trigger.”
“Okay, let me get my purse,” I stammered.
“You think I want cash? Oh no, bitch, I want something far more valuable.”
“Please, I can get more money. Just take me to an ATM,” I begged. A harsh chuckle echoed next to my ear, and I flinched.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
“No!” I exclaimed in fear. If I did that, I’d be powerless. The guy didn’t argue, and I stumbled as he pistol-whipped me hard. Blinking and stunned from the blow, I didn’t fight when my arms were yanked behind me. I felt the cool metal of handcuffs click around my wrists.
“Get in the trunk.”
“I won’t fit in.”
“Yes, you will. It’s big enough for your fat ass,” the guy ordered.
Hands ran down my body, and I screamed, thinking the worst. I took another blow, and my knees gave out from under me. My phone was yanked from my jeans pocket. A gag was shoved in my mouth, and then I was pushed hard. I tumbled into the trunk, and the man grabbed my legs and lifted them.
“Jesus, bitch, have you heard of a diet? God knows what he sees in your fat ass.”
The last thing I saw was a pair of jeans and a white button-down shirt before the trunk slammed shut.
I searched around, seeking something to use as a weapon, but sadly, the trunk was empty.
I rarely used it. With my phone gone, I’d no way of calling for help.
I tried spitting the gag out, but it was difficult.
Tears streamed down my face, and my nose filled with snot, making it doubly hard to breathe.
Panic threatened to overwhelm me as my body shook violently in fear.
If I didn’t calm down, I wouldn’t be able to breathe and would be unconscious when the kidnapper stopped.
With a huge effort, I used my tongue to push the gag out, and I gulped in deep lungsful of air.
Great, I could breathe. That was something.
Now I wasn’t going to black out through hyperventilating or not getting enough oxygen.
Somehow, I had to free my hands. I struggled against the handcuffs, but they were too tight.
I briefly contemplated trying to hook my hands over my feet, but I wasn’t that bendy.
My kidnapper had left my feet free, so at least that was a benefit.
Maybe I could kick him or run when he let me out.
The car kept going; it had been ages, and I’d lost track of time when I’d begun to panic.
That had been a poorly judged reaction. Now I was completely unaware of even what direction we were heading in or how long we’d been driving.
As I puzzled who was behind this—it certainly wasn’t a friendly criminal this time—I was unsure of what enemies I had.
Was this the person who’d sent me those presents?
No, those gifts hadn’t been sent with hate or spite, and the kidnapper had insulted me.