Charlie's Heart: MC Romance (Burning Bastards MC Book 3) (2 page)

“Two weeks before her disappearance, she began getting threats, at first they came through the switchboard at the courthouse, then the threats were sent by mail. One such letter demanded the writer’s children be returned to them or she would pay for taking the children. The problem here is that we have three names of families that could be behind this entire thing. All of the cases were related in that the cousins and aunts and uncles were all from the same clan of people and all of them deny any knowledge.”

At first Charlie felt poleaxed, Selma was missing? His woman was probably in the hands of people cruel enough that their children had been removed from the homes? He shook his head at the picture that was conjured in his brain. “Who has her?” The Agents both shrugged their shoulders.

“Mr. Vernon, I’m afraid we cannot tell you the names of the families, we came here because of the judge’s phone records. We had a small hope that she was with you because of the many phone calls she has made to your cell phone in the last two weeks, and she has called your number at least twenty times during the past months before that. We have to search out every clue, sir. It appears we have drawn the wrong conclusion concerning your relationship.”

Charlie stood before they could move from their seats. “I asked you for a name, I don’t give a shit what you think about anything.” His voice was low and deadly as he put his fingertips on the table. “I asked you nicely once, I won’t ask again and you fuckers better get ready for an asswhippin’ if you’re gonna protect the people holding my woman.”

Big Dog intervened by snatching the folder from in front of Agent Hill. “Cool your shit, gentlemen, you won’t make it out of the room without giving us a name, this way, you are not culpable if someone was to find out who you suspect right? The folder fell open on the table and someone might have seen your list of suspects, simple and non-violent. Ah, well I’ll be a motherfucker, there’s a few names we’ve heard of before. You boys better take some heavy firepower with you when you go into them hills. Those people are a different breed of human.”

He slid the folder back toward the agents, with the cover open where Charlie could see the information he wanted. “Thank you for stopping by and we hope you find the judge real soon. She has friends here at the club, and if the Burning Bastards can help you in any way, we’ll be sure and let you know what we find.”

The agents were at least smart enough to know they had been dismissed, and Preacher escorted them to the door, watching to make certain they left the grounds safely, with no detours.

Behind him in the room, Big Dog and Charlie had the table they had been sitting at flipped up to check for listening devices. The table was clean, but the chair Agent Scott had been sitting in had a small black disc adhered to the underside. Big Dog grinned and took the chair outside & set it next to his Harley. He started the motor and revved it several times just to fuck with the agents. The laughter coming from the men that came out of the building lightened the mood for a few minutes.

Agent Hill’s chair was clean, but it was taken outside too. Preacher began quoting scripture when Big Dog shut down the powerful engine and walked back to the door of the club.

He made a detour when he saw Charlie walk around the corner of the building with his cell phone in hand. He hesitated to disturb the greybeard, but Charlie was listening to the receiver and yanking on his hair at the same time. He finally closed the old cell, and from the way the older man’s shoulders slumped forward, Big Dog couldn’t help but make his presence known.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Charlie didn’t want to talk, he wanted to eat his .45. “I swore I wouldn’t bother her again, I swore I wouldn’t pick up the fuckin’ phone when she called. She kept calling, Big Dog, she kept calling me for help and I was too fuckin’ thick headed to pick up the goddamned phone. She needed me and I fuckin’ let her down.”

Big Dog looked at his old friend with pity. “Charlie, if you can hang on for a few I’ll call a few of the guys to go with you, or I can call Future and let her know I’ll be late. You should have company on the trip.”

Charlie shook his grey head, “No, I know the people that have her. Old Birdsong has a bad case of isolationism. I don’t dare bring anyone with me. That fucker would start shooting before he ever asked for a name.”

He slapped the prez on his arm, “It’ll be fine, if things go well, I might even bring you back a quart of the best shine you ever tasted. I should be back in a week or two, much over that and you can give my stuff to Pressley.”

He nodded again and started walking to his bike. The old sled never failed to soothe his torment in the past, and he hoped he could count on the same healing tonight. He had to think, and the agent’s words about her disappearing from the area hit him, nothing prepared him to hear her begging him to come and save her from the people before they took her.

“
Please, Daddy, you said you’d always be there if I needed you, I need you. I am so afraid. Please answer the phone.”

“
I guess you were just saying the words you thought I wanted to hear. If you really loved me you would be here.”

“
Birdsong and Juanita won’t stop. They have been driving past my place over and over, I don’t dare turn on my lights at night. The police are patrolling more, but they seem to know when the cops aren’t around. They want the kids back, but, Charlie, I swear, those children were in such bad shape that I couldn’t send them back. We had to send the kids out of the area because their parents tried to kidnap them from the hospital.”

“
I wish you were here to talk to, this job is great, but I had to trade the man I love, and my best friend, to get it. Oh yeah, I bought a gun, I just hope I have the guts to pull the trigger if I need to.”

A few of the messages were random thoughts, like she was either drunk or sleep deprived. His bet would be sleep deprivation. His mailbox was full, so he deleted five of the more inane messages, just in case she could call him if she got the chance.

Charlie knew who Birdsong and Juanita were. He’d bought a few quarts of grade A shine from the man, and a leather pelt cover for his sled’s seat a few years back.

Birdsong Johnson was a hill country man with a serious case of mean. He ran a corn liquor still, and shot at anyone who showed up close to his homestead. How in the hell the authorities got their hands on the kids had to be a miracle because those hill folk were not the kind of people that believed in education.

Charlie could only imagine the case of mad Birdsong had going on with the fact a split tail judge had taken his kids away. It would have been bad enough for a male judge, but a female, well that would have gone straight to the old boy’s pride.

Juanita Johnson was the most browbeaten woman Charlie had ever seen. She must’ve whelped her first born around fourteen years old. She was the daughter of another hill country family. The last time he’d seen her she still looked too young to have three brats hanging on her skirts. That had been a few years ago. Who knew how many kids were in the litter by now.

The first thing he needed to do was to go home and get some cash, old Birdsong didn’t take plastic, and Charlie understood the man’s refusal to negotiate prices for his product. Thankfully he’d been a customer before so it wouldn’t look suspicious when he showed up.

He left the Indian at the bottom of the wooded hills and shrugged on his camping gear. It took a while for the old familiar cadence of moving without thinking, one foot in front of the other, to give him a sense of peace. His attention was on the woods and downed logs as he went deeper into the inclining landscape.

He’d changed his plans from showing up to purchase some of Birdsong’s moonshine, mainly due to the fact he had time to think about what a man used to secrecy would do if he had kidnapped someone important.

He could have rode the scoot up on the two track that passed for a road to the enclave where the clan lived, but he knew the mentality of Birdsong, Selma wouldn’t be kept at the homestead for the authorities to find so easily. Strangers, even familiar strangers, would never know there was a kidnap victim nearby, and no one but Birdsong himself would speak to visitors.

It was a hell of a climb, and Charlie cursed himself for allowing his body to go soft like it had. He’d exchanged the pack of smokes for a baggie of sugar packets, not only for his health, but he didn’t need to alert one of the Johnson clan that someone was on their hill by letting the cigarette smoke reach their noses. The side benefit was the extra energy he would need to navigate through the dense woods. He was the victim of low blood sugar, instead of shots to keep his sugar at an acceptable level, he was forced to eat high protein and carbohydrates, it was a good thing they made those little packets of peanut butter crackers, or he would starve to death nowadays.

Thinking about his eating habits just brought his mood further down. Once Selma found out about his issue, she cooked regularly for the two of them. When he left her, his nutrition had gone to shit. Why should he bother to care, he didn’t answer to anyone,
dammit
.

It was almost full dark by the time he decided that he wouldn’t get any further without breaking an ankle in the dark. He didn’t bother to light a fire, or even pitch his tent tonight. His bedroll would be sufficient for his needs, and he remembered to take the painkillers for his arthritic knees so he’d be able to walk the next day.

It took a long time for him to doze off, and even then his sleep wasn’t restful, his mind continually replayed her messages that she’d left on his phone. “You said you would always be there if I needed you. Daddy, I’m scared, please, please, pick up the phone, or call me back.”

She’d done everything she could think of to hide from the Johnson clan. She knew she had to stop crying over the fact Charlie refused to answer her calls and he probably had moved on in the past months since they’d last been together.

She hung up the connection when the automated voice told her the voice mailbox she was trying to connect with was full.

He had been her only real hope at keeping her safe, and now she cried ugly tears of fear and betrayal. She would have bet her life that Charlie meant what he told her before he left the bed they’d shared and made love in most of the night before.

“If you ever need me, you call and I’ll be there. I’ve never told a woman that I loved her like I love you, but you need to follow your dreams, girl, and I’m not the kind of man you need by your side while you’re livin’ those dreams.”

He’d wiped the tears from her cheeks with his big thumb and licked the liquid off. “I don’t want to be the cause of your tears, girl, a man shouldn’t make his woman cry hurtful tears, and if I stick around you will cry later on when you realize being with me is holding you from getting elected. I wouldn’t be able to look in a mirror to shave or comb my damn hair if I was to be the reason your dream couldn’t come true.”

Election night she’d come home to find a dozen yellow roses and one blood red one in the center with a card that said, “Proud of you, and may all of your dreams come true.”

He hadn’t signed the card, but she knew who sent the beautiful flowers, and she’d sat at her kitchen table and bawled her eyes out that night. It was so unfair, and she hated the job that she loved because she couldn’t have it all like she’d always believed a woman could. She could have the dream, or she could have the man of her dreams, one or the other, and it sucked.

Now she needed him to hold her in his strong arms and tell her everything would be all right, but he had cut the tie between them, and she was alone. She fell asleep on the sofa they’d first made love on, and woke up to see Birdsong Johnson staring at her.

She opened her mouth to scream and she saw the raised fist that she hadn’t ducked fast enough to avoid.

She woke up when she was pulled from under the backseat of a vehicle that she didn’t recognize. She realized then that someone else must have been driving Birdsong’s old pick-up as a decoy for the police to be looking out for.

Juanita stared at her in fear, but Selma kept her eyes on the gruff wiry man. He could use a good scrubbing from the smell of the him, and he grinned at her with tobacco stained rotting teeth. She wanted to put her fingers to her jaw to see if anything was broken, but her upper arms were taped to her sides, and she couldn’t get her hand up far enough to touch her face.