Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
B linking her eyes open, Scarlet winced. Her head pounded with each beat of her racing heart. Miniscule movements made her realize that her legs were strapped to a chair and her arms were tied behind her back. With what? No clue.
Leaving her head bent to the side, she tried to appear unconscious. Her mouth was dry as a desert, and every muscle in her body throbbed. She had no idea how long she’d been out.
Voices—too many to count—came from the other side of the room. Hopefully, no one was paying attention to her.
Peeking down at her lap, a tiny seed of hope bloomed. She was still wearing her apron. And it looked as though it still held the extra notepads she always kept tucked in there. If so, maybe her phone had stayed inside, too. God, she hoped so.
“Where’s the fucking kid?” a deep voice boomed.
She flinched, then scolded herself for the mistake.
“Kid’s under lock and key, Psycho. If she’s not with the fucking bodyguard, she’s with the fucking boyfriend. There’s no way to get to her.”
“Bullshit!”
A loud crash startled Scarlet, and in her peripheral vision, she saw a pair of scuffed black motorcycle boots stomping her way.
“What the fuck, dumbass? You know chloroform doesn’t work like it does in the fucking movies! You need to keep that shit constantly over her fucking face!”
The boots rushed out of her vision, and the sound of a fist hitting flesh had her heart tripping. Then the boots were back. Right beside her.
“I know you’re fucking awake, Sienna.”
The jig was up. She raised her head and met the bright-blue gaze of a very angry man. She didn’t recognize him, but judging from the familiar color of his eyes, he was related to Steele. And to Daisy.
The only other person she recognized was Knuckles. And wasn’t that all sorts of fucked up. But she took some satisfaction in seeing his lip was split and bleeding. There were two younger guys who looked close to her age, and then the “couple” from the diner. She scanned the younger guys’ faces again and confirmed that neither was the scary-ass Cutter guy. She hoped that was a good thing.
“You need to get the kid here.”
She glared at the blue-eyed man. “No.”
He tsked and shook his head. “Daisy is my blood, Sienna.”
Scarlet hated him. She had no clue who he was, but she hated him. “She’s my daughter. She’s Steele’s daughter. Not yours.”
Actually, Daisy was Matt’s daughter, but Scarlet would play along with these assholes. She’d do anything she needed to stay alive and return to her family.
“I’m not going to hurt her, Sienna. She’s my niece. Hell, she’s going to be the fucking princess of the new Reaper’s. I’m her next of kin, and Daisy needs to be with her people. Where she fucking belongs.”
Over my dead body. “Fuck you.”
He tilted his head to the side, then smashed his fist into her face. Fire consumed her cheek; blood pooled in her mouth. But she didn’t recoil or cry out. She refused to give him the satisfaction.
He extended his phone to her. “You’re calling the day care, and you’re gonna tell those fuckers that your brother is going to pick up the kid for a surprise trip. Then Cutter will bring Daisy to us.” He showed her his phone’s display with the number of Rebecca’s day care queued up. “Do it. Now.”
She turned her head and spit blood on the floor. “Fuck. You.”
The man’s face flushed bright red before his fist smashed into her face again. And again. And again. Until she crashed sideways to the ground.
Someone yanked her upright, setting her chair back on its feet. Her head spun. But as her eyes refocused, she steeled her mind.
She would do this for as long as she needed. She wasn’t saying a damn thing.
“Jesus Christ, Psycho!” the guy from the diner shouted. “Let’s fucking storm that day care and just take the fucking kid already!”
Psycho glared at his associate. “What? We shoot our way in, take the kid, and then what, fucker? Wait in line to get on the fucking ferry while the police swarm us? It’s a fucking island!” He shook his head. “Dumbass.”
“This is bullshit. What the fuck do we even need the fucking kid for? The bitch is right—the kid is Steele’s , not yours, so why the fuck do you even care?—”
Scarlet yelped at the gunshot, and she watched in horror as the guy’s head exploded. The woman from the diner screamed as she rushed to him.
“Family,” Psycho said, his voice calm and lethal. “Family is the most important thing.”
The woman stopped screaming. The men quieted their cursing. Even Scarlet’s heart skipped a beat. Holy shit. No wonder they called him Psycho.
He extended his phone to her again. “You’re going to call them. And you’re going to have them give Daisy to Cutter.”
“Or what, Psycho?” she sneered. Maybe not the wisest decision on her part, but what was he going to do? Shoot her? Then how would he get Daisy?
He stared at her for a moment. A menacing smile crept over his face, and she fought a shiver. “Or I’m going to call Cutter. First, he’ll gut Martha and Ray. Then, he’ll go after the rest of the diner people. Then?—”
Explosions rocked the room. Blinding light had Scarlet slamming her eyes shut. More explosions sounded and her ears rang.
Then, just like that, the barrage was over.
Scarlet cracked her eyes open, and the smoke swirling in the air made them water and burn. Six black-clad figures stormed the room. Shouts to get down mixed with curses and wails. A gun fired, and someone groaned.
Silence descended. The only things she could hear were her racing pulse and that damn ringing in her ears. Tears streamed down her face. Partially from her irritated eyes, and partially from the pain of where Psycho had pummeled her face. It hurt to blink. Hell, it hurt to breathe. But she’d take these black-clad strangers over the crazy motorcycle club members any day of the week.
One of the black-clad people approached her. Their gun was pointed at the ground, so that was a good sign, right?
When they called out, “Alvarez! Over here!” her heart stopped.
Another black-clad figure rushed toward her. Dropping to their knees at her feet, they ripped off their face mask.
She stared at him for a second before a violent sob tore through her. The intensity of it made her moan in pain.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Matt murmured, running his hands gently over her shoulders.
Two more figures in black appeared behind him. They raised their face masks. Gavin and Tash.
Tash moved to kneel behind her, and Scarlet heard the click of a camera. Then the PSO murmured, “Hold still while I cut these ties off you.”
The second her hands were free, Scarlet hissed out a breath. Agonizing tingles shot from her wrists to her shoulders and then back down.
“Hang on, sweetheart,” Matt murmured, grabbing her arms and gently massaging them. “Getting the blood flow back is a bitch.”
“You’re telling me,” she croaked. But she was so damn thankful he was here.
“You did good, Scar,” Tash said, moving to crouch beside her. “Hold still again, and I’ll get the zip ties off your ankles.”
She nodded, and a wave of exhaustion washed over her. “Daisy?”
“She’s totally fine,” Matt said. Once Tash cut the ties holding her to the chair, he scooped her up in his arms. “She’s at Hudson Security. Poppy and the twins are with her. She’s good. I promise.”
Nodding, she closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know why I’m so tired all of a sudden.”
“Most likely an adrenaline crash, sweetheart. Just rest for a little bit. I’ve got you.” She felt his lips press against her forehead. The one spot on her face that didn’t hurt. “Just rest.”
Sweat and dust and gunpowder scented the air. But as she nuzzled closer to Matt’s neck, she drifted off with his woodsy, soapy scent filling her nose.