Her Rock Hard Mountain Man: Rough & Rugged, Book Two Page 8

  It’s nothing, I tell myself. You’ve been afraid of him for years is all. Of course you’re not sure about him turning over a new stone.

  Even if he does get angry, what’s he going to do, kick you out? You’ll land on your feet.

  “I’ll be okay,” I tell him. “Promise.”

  His jaw flexes.

  “I need to go talk to him,” I say, rubbing Elias’s arm again. “If he’s being normal again, I at least owe him that.”

  Elias takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly, looking at me.

  Then, he nods.

  “I understand,” he says. “But you’ve got your phone, right? You’ll call me if anything happens?”

  “I’ll call,” I promise.

  He kisses me quickly and chastely. I put one hand on his chest for a moment, but I’m mindful of where we are and the possibility that we’re being watched, so I keep it G-rated.

  Elias watches me as I walk up the path to my father’s house, then open the door and go inside. I wave to him as I step inside, then close the door after myself. A few moments later, I hear the SUV pull out of the driveway.

  “In here!” my dad calls, his voice coming from the living room.

  I take another deep breath and head that way, stomach churning, spirits rising.

  Maybe this won’t be so bad, I tell myself. Maybe he’s going to treat me like an adult, maybe he won’t freak out if I spend the night at Elias’s once in a while since that’s something adults do…

  I walk into the living room and stop cold, because he’s not alone.

  Sitting next to him in full MC leathers is Filter, a huge bruise already raising on the side of his face. My father stands, the look on his face already menacing as he walks toward me.

  I’m an idiot, I think.

  I can’t believe I fell for it.

  “Daughter,” my father says.

  I turn to run, but the moment I do, Shrike steps into my path out of nowhere, blocking my way. He grabs me by the wrists and spins me quickly, pinning them behind my back before I even have time to think.

  “No!” I shout, finally coming to my senses. “Dad, what the hell is—”

  “Put her in the room,” he says, nodding at Shrike. “Let her think about disobeying me for a while.”

  Shrike shoves me, still holding onto my wrists. I’m numb with surprise and betrayal, too numb to scream or fight back, not that either would help. We don’t really have any neighbors, and it’s not like I can overpower three bikers.

  There’s a padlock on the outside of my bedroom door. It wasn’t there when I left. Shrike shoves me inside and I stumble in, the door slamming shut behind me.

  I pound on the door but it’s useless, just like I know it’ll be.

  Chapter Twelve

  Elias

  I’m pacing back and forth in my old farm house, my phone on the kitchen table. I’m watching it suspiciously, trying to decide what I should do.

  If I should even do anything at all.

  It’s been ten hours since I dropped Mia off at her father’s house. Eight hours since her dad had a sudden change of heart and became father of the year; eight hours since she swore up and down that she’d be fine.

  I believed her. She’s known the man her whole life, I’ve seen him around at my bar. Of course she’s got more and better insight into him. Besides, what kind of monster would hurt his own daughter?

  I don’t really like Lucky. I think he’s an asshole and a bully. And I sure wasn’t crazy about leaving Mia there, but I trust her, so I did.

  But she’s not answering my calls. It’s ten in the morning. I didn’t sleep at all last night, just laid in bed thinking about her. Wondering if she was okay, hoping that I made the right call in leaving her there at her insistence instead of overriding her and inserting myself.

  She’s almost always up by ten. If she doesn’t answer my calls right away, she usually texts or calls within twenty minutes, and she hasn’t. I’ve been trying to reach her since seven, and I’ve gotten nothing back.

  No calls, no answers, no texts. I’m about ready to start sending up smoke signals.

  Or, hell, just drive over to her father’s house and demand to see her.

  I pace some more, drink another cup of coffee. I’m too worked up to be hungry, and five cups of black coffee on an empty stomach isn’t doing me any favors. I’m still pacing, thinking about making another pot, and planning ways to break down her father’s door when the phone on the table buzzes.

  I grab it so fast that I send it spinning to the floor by accident, then snatch it from the ground.

  Mia: Got your messages. Im fine.

  Me: Are you sure? Everything went all right with your father?

  Mia: Its all good. Hes happy for me, we had a long talk last night and worked everything out. Im good and everything is normal.

  Me: Are you at school? When can I call you?

  Mia: Its better if you dont call.

  I stare at the phone in my hand for a long, long moment, because something’s all wrong. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it’s gnawing at the bottom of my gut, bothering me. Whispering everything isn’t okay, even if I can’t figure out why.

  It just doesn’t sound like Mia. Even if the words themselves are perfectly bland and normal, there’s something off about it. Something wrong…

  I read her texts again, and it hits me.

  Typos. Its all good. Hes happy for me. Dont call.

  Even when we’re just texting, Mia’s a stickler for punctuation. I make fun of her for it sometimes, telling her that no one cares whether her texts have apostrophes in the right place or not, but having bad grammar drives her absolutely crazy.

  There’s not a single apostrophe in her texts right now, even though there should be. I hit the call button again, even though I know she won’t answer. It goes to voicemail, and this time I don’t leave a message.

  Moments later, more texts.

  Mia: Please dont call.

  Mia: Sorry to do this but I think its better if we dont see each other again.

  Mia: I need to focus on school for now so I can get good grades and get a good job when I graduate.

  Even though I’m nearly certain it’s not her, the texts make my heart clench in my chest, skipping a beat. I force myself to be calm and text her back. I need to figure out what’s going on, where she is. I need to get to the bottom of this.

  Me: Can I just come see you one more time?

  Mia: No please dont. Its better this way.

  Me: I have some of your stuff. Can I come over and give it back?

  Mia: No just keep it.

  Shit, this isn’t working. I’ve never been particularly good at ruses, but I was hoping that whoever has her phone would at least give something away. Maybe even allow for one last meeting, though that was a shot in the dark.

  Me: I want to talk to you. At least let me talk to you one last time.

  Mia: I dont want to see you any more.

  Me: Okay.

  Mia: Thank u.

  As if I needed further proof that it’s not really her, I’ve never seen her shorten you like that. It’s just not her style.

  I take a deep breath, then let it out, even though every muscle in my body is screaming, shot through with adrenaline. I stand there for a moment, trying to come up with a plan, to filter through my options and find the best way to go help Mia.

  But it’s useless. I’ve never been much of a planner. I’m more of an action guy, and the only plan I can think of is go get your woman.

  So I decide to do just that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Elias

  There’s at least a dozen motorcycles in the driveway of her father’s house, and the sight of them gives me pause. It makes me wonder if I’m some sort of idiot, coming here and thinking that I can rescue Mia from whatever’s happened to her without any backup, or even a plan B.

  Like I said, I’ve never been much good at planning. I’ve always been th
e action guy; when I was in the Marines, the planning was more for guys like Mason and Calder. Me, I like to rush in and get shit done.

  I drive up, park my SUV, and knock on her front door any way, even though what I want to do is kick it down and barge in there, ready to rescue my woman. I’d like to go in there and personally punch whoever’s got her phone — probably her scumbag father — and then, for good measure, throw him through a window.

  The door opens before I’ve even finished knocking, like they were waiting for me.

  “Elias,” Lucky says, his voice equal parts easy and slimy. “How interesting that you showed up.”

  I force my hands not to clench into fists.

  “I’d like to talk to Mia,” I say, my voice coming out low and stiff, mostly with the effort of not punching him.

  Lucky looks over his shoulder, and I peek around him into the hallway of his house. I can only see one other biker — Filter, I think — standing in the doorway to the kitchen, but I get the distinct impression that there’s more than just the two of them in this house.

  “I’m not sure she wants to talk to you,” he says, smirking like an asshole.

  “You go find out,” I say, crossing my arms. “I’ll wait here.”

  Behind him, Filter crosses his arms too, but the movement just serves to accentuate his belly.

  Too many beers at the road house, not enough sit-ups, I think.

  Lucky steps back and gives me a long once-over, from the bottom of my shoes to the top of my head, like he’s thinking very carefully about something and he’s not very practiced at it.

  Finally, he nods his head.

  “All right,” he says, like he’s come to a decision. “I’ll see if she wants to talk to you.”

  He turns and heads down the hallway. I step inside, though I don’t close the door behind me as I have a stare-off with Filter, still mute in the kitchen doorway.

  I’m there for a long, long time. There are muffled voices coming from somewhere else inside the house, and I strain my ears to hear what they’re saying. There are at least four men, maybe five, and the knowledge makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

  It’s too many. Trying to fight five men at once — five outlaw bikers, known for fighting dirty — is probably a suicide mission, especially if they’ve got weapons.

  Given that the Iron Diablos are rumored to have their fingers in gun running, it’s a good bet that they’re armed.

  Before I can get any further in my plan, or lack thereof, Mia suddenly comes out, stumbling like she’s been pushed, her long hair lanky. She looks like she’s been crying, and I rush forward without a thought, desperate to take her in my arms.

  “Stop!” she shouts, alarmed, holding up both her hands.

  I come to a halt halfway down the hallway, both my fists clenched by my sides.

  “Don’t come over here,” she says, her voice softer now though it still sounds funny, like she’s been crying.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, the only question I can think of.

  “I’m fine,” she says, taking a deep breath, practically gulping air. “Yes. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

  Everything is obviously not fine, but we’re in a house with god knows how many armed and dangerous bikers, so I play along.

  “That’s good,” I say. “I just wanted to come talk to you after I got your texts.”

  She looks at her father, standing behind me, for a quick second but that’s all the confirmation I need. There’s no way she sent them. She doesn’t know what texts I’m talking about.

  “Right,” she says. “Those texts.”

  I take another step forward, but she holds up her hands again.

  “Don’t. Please,” she says, the panic rising in her voice.

  She glances quickly to the side, at someone or something I can’t see, then looks back at me.

  “I don’t want to see you anymore,” she says, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Don’t come back. Don’t call me anymore. I’m breaking up with you.”

  Even though I know she doesn’t mean it, and I know that something else is happening here, her words hurt like a knife to the heart.

  “Why?” I ask softly, an honest question.

  “Go,” she says, her voice stronger now, harsher. “Get out.”

  A quick pause.

  “Please,” she says, softer now.

  “I think the lady’s made her wishes pretty clear,” Lucky says from the front door. “I’d also appreciate it if you left.”

  I don’t turn and look at him. Instead I lock eyes with Mia and take one more small step forward.

  Her whole body goes rigid, like she’s bracing for something, but I don’t know what.

  “It’ll be okay,” I say, so quietly that no one else can hear me. “I promise.”

  Mia nods a tiny nod but doesn’t move otherwise. I’m aching to take her in my arms, hold her, kiss her, prove to her that everything will be all right, but I know I can’t. There’s a threat lurking just out of my vision, I’m sure of it.

  With that, I turn and walk back through the front door. I don’t bother looking at Lucky again, because if I do, I might reach out and strangle him for whatever he’s done to his daughter, and that would likely get me and her both shot.

  I get in my car, but I don’t go home.

  Instead, I decide to pay Mason and Calder a visit.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mia

  “You can put that down now,” I say.

  My hands are shaking, and my nerves are shot, but my voice sounds about ten times stronger than I feel right now.

  Over to my left, a smirking Shrike lowers his gun from where it was pointed at my knees, but I don’t relax until the safety clicks back on.

  “I knew you could do it,” he says, his voice oily and ugly. “Was that so hard?”

  He didn’t believe me. Thank God, he didn’t believe me.

  “No,” I say, my voice still as cold as I can make it.

  I’m still facing the front door, even though Elias is gone. I heard him drive away, his last words to me echoing in my ears.

  It’ll be okay.

  I promise.

  “Let’s get you back where you belong,” Shrike says, stuffing the gun back into his jeans. “You gonna make me tie you up again or do you think you can behave yourself?”

  He grins a nasty little grin at that and exchanges a glance with the other men in the kitchen, all out of sight of the front door. Filter’s here, and so are Skull and Devil, two other Diablos, all my dad’s disgusting buddies.

  The last guy in the kitchen isn’t a Diablo at all. He’s from the Priests of Chaos MC, one of the other clubs that has tenuous on-again, off-again relations with the Diablos. Apparently right now the relations are on again, because he’s been here all day, talking quietly with my father and his lieutenants.

  I think his name is Gage.

  I have a very bad feeling about him. The Diablos are bad, but I’ve only ever heard them talk about the Priests in hushed voices. I don’t even know what’s so bad about them — I just know no one will talk about it.

  “I’m fine,” I spit, already heading back for my bedroom. It’s now my prison: a padlock on the door, two guards on the outside, and two other Diablos below my window just in case I try anything.

  I tried sneaking out last night when I thought they were asleep.

  They weren’t. They finally untied me when Elias came to the door, but the threat is still lingering in the air.

  I go into my room and sit on my bed without making another sound. I need to think, to come up with some plan, because I’m pretty sure my father and Gage are close to a deal, and I don’t think I’ll be staying here for long once they reach it.

  But there’s nothing. I’ve made an inventory five times over of everything in this room, and there’s nothing here that helps. There’s no way to reach the outside world — the only electronic device I’ve got is an alarm clock. There are only two exits,
and they’re both guarded by armed outlaw bikers.

  Something will happen, I tell myself.

  There will be some opportunity. And when it comes along, take it.

  For now, I lie on my bed and try to get some rest. I know I won’t be able to sleep, but if escaping is going to take everything I’ve got, I may as well try.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Elias

  I ignore the knocker on the door and pound the heavy oak with my fist, shaking it slightly on its hinges.

  Then I take a step back for a moment, giving them time to get to the door. Meanwhile, I look for the cameras.

  I’m certain they already know I’m here. These two are surveillance experts — there must be cameras on every tree that lines their long driveway, not to mention the front porch, the garage that I parked in front of, and probably this chainsaw-carved wooden bear standing on their front porch.

  I lean in closer to the bear.

  Are the eyes cameras?

  Before I can get any further with that line of thinking, the door opens, and Mason is standing there.

  “Elias!” he says, smiling. “What brings you—”

  “I need your help,” I say, cutting him off. “Right now.”

  * * *

  There are no pleasantries. Mason might know me better than I know myself, and he also knows exactly what it means that I need his help.

  Sixty seconds after I knock on their door, the three of us are below their charming country cabin in a room that wouldn’t look out of place in the Pentagon. Two walls are nearly covered in screens, and the work surfaces lining the walls are strewn with keyboards, computer mice, trackpads, and gadgets that I’ve never seen before and couldn’t name if I tried.