Raw: The Ultimate Mc Collection (132 page)

What the fuck had I been thinking to not have the family on lockdown in the clubhouse during such a dangerous time?

Instead, we were celebrating like a bunch of fucking idiots. 

I thought of my father, knowing that if he were there, his eyes would be full of deep disappointment that I had put Rebel in such a dangerous situation.

I could only hope Rebel didn’t do anything stupid to make the situation any worse.  And even more importantly, I could only hope she would forgive me for being the worst brother in the whole goddamned world.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Rebel

“I have to pee.”  I told the goon sitting next to me.

He ignored me, his eyes glued to the television in front of us.  I nudged him.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Jorge.”  He replied, staring straight ahead.

“Well, Jorge, I have to pee.”  I stood up, and that caught his attention finally.

“You were peeing when we found you.”

“Yeah, well.  I drank a lot of water, and you guys are scaring the piss out of me, so unless you want me to piss on this pristine white silk couch, then you’ll show me to the bathroom.”

The penthouse was practically a fortress.  The only way in and out was the fucking elevator and that made a loud ding every time it opened, so sneaking out without being noticed was not going to happen.  I was hoping if I could take a look at the bathroom, I could at least find something to incapacitate this guy.

Sergio had left the penthouse after a few minutes of making phone calls in the other room, and instructing the goon to keep an eye on me.

“Don’t harm her, under any circumstances, but don’t let her leave either.  I trust you can handle yourself with her?”  I over heard him whispering to him in the corner.

“Si, jefe.  Sorry about earlier.  I’m a drug dealer, not a kidnapper.  I don’t have a lot of experience holding on to wiggling putitas.”

“Well, you’re a big hombre, I have faith you can handle her.”

“Si, jefe.”  The goon hung his head, and I smirked with the knowledge that I had humiliated him.

Poor guy.  I was nowhere near finished with him, and if he thought I was just going to let them keep me here against my will without a fight, he was dead wrong.

Now that I was in the penthouse alone with Jorge, I was determined to find a way to escape, no matter what I had to do.

“Fine! Let’s go!”  He stood up quickly, grabbing my arm and dragging me down the hallway.  

Sergio was right - the suite was the most beautiful place I had ever been in.  White marble floors, sparkling glass tables and white fur rugs created a type of luxury I had only seen in magazines.  It was totally luxurious, and yet completely uncomfortable.  I hated it.  I was afraid to sneeze in a place like this.  How did people live amongst such pristine environments, I wondered?

I missed the clubhouse so badly right then.  I longed for the familiar smell of oil, leather and whiskey.  I missed the coziness of beat up hardwood floors and the smelly bar.  And Mason.  Fuck, I missed Mason so fiercely, my eyes filled with tears as I thought about him.  He must be so worried.  Or so angry.

Probably a mixture of both, but I hoped when we got out of this mess, the anger would disappear and he would look at me again like he did yesterday.  I would have given anything to be back in his arms in that moment, and as Jorge roughly shoved me along the marble hallway, I looked at him with complete contempt.  As far as I was concerned, he was the only thing standing in the way between me and Mason was him.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I entered the bathroom, and  saw the huge vase of flowers on the vanity.  I walked further in, and turned around to face Jorge.

“You aren’t watching.”  I slammed the door in his face.

“Puta!” I heard him mutter under his breath.

Fuck him.  I really did have to pee, and while I sat there on the toilet, my heart began racing, throbbing loudly in my chest, as I thought about what I was going to do.

I stood up and washed my hands, laughing at the fancy little soaps that were on the counter.  I put a few of them in my jeans pocket for later, a souvenir of my not-so-amazing adventure today.  

Pushing away the humiliation I felt when I looked myself in the eye in the mirror, I took a deep breath and mustered as much strength as I could.  I may have gotten myself into this fucked up situation, but I sure as hell was going to at least try to get myself out of it.

Besides, if I escaped, then maybe Mason and Harley would be impressed.  After the anger went away, that is.  However long that was going to take.

I removed the white lilies from the vase, breaking one off and putting it behind my ear.  After I poured out the water in the sink, I tested the heaviness of the vase.

“Hurry up in there, niña!”  Jorge called from the other side of the door.

“Almost done!”  I hollered back. 

“Don’t worry, I’m coming asshole,” I muttered to myself.

I waited until I heard his footsteps walking away, and then quietly opened the door.  I tiptoed up behind him, raising the heavy glass vase over my head with both hands.  I quickly took a deep breathe and then smashed it onto his bald head as hard as I could.

He went down like a shot dog.  I couldn’t believe it!

I crept around him, looking at his huge body that lay crumpled on the floor like a blanket.  His eyes were closed, and he was breathing, but he was out like a light.

I smirked, and then I flipped his unconscious body off.

“Fuck you, you stupid goon!”  I said to him, doing a little dance around him.

I was so proud of myself.  Mason and Harley were going to be proud of me, too, because now they didn’t have to give the drugs back, and the cartel wouldn’t have the upper hand.  

And then finally, Mason and I could start our life together.  But first, I had to get the fuck out of here.  

I looked around, spotting my backpack and phone all the way across the massive living room.  I would just call Harley, let him know I was safe, and then I would leave on the elevator.  I couldn’t wait to hear his voice when he heard from me.

I took about ten steps towards my backpack when the elevator dinged.  I jumped about ten feet, and ran back the other way towards where Jorge lay.  

I ran to the back of the suite, the bedroom being the only option I had to run to.  The only place I could think to hide was under the bed, and I dove under there just as I heard sharp footsteps exit the elevator.  

Two voices began yelling in Spanish, as they obviously spotted the bleeding Jorge right away.  Neither of them sounded like Sergio. They talked loudly and excitedly for a few moments, calling Jorge’s name as they tried to rouse him.

I trembled under the bed as I listened, wishing I could see, but the dust ruffle on the bed was hiding me completely, and I prayed they didn’t think to look for me under here.

“The puta is gone!”  I heard one of them yell.  Footsteps trailed through the suite quickly, and when I heard them approach the bedroom door, I held my breath, frozen in fear.  I was pretty sure the act of knocking out one of Sergio’s men would change Sergio’s instructions about not hurting me.

I followed the sound of the footsteps as they trailed into the bedroom, stopping in front of the closet, the sound of the closet door opening and shutting before they exited the room again.  I began to breath again, thankful they hadn’t thought to look under the bed. 

I heard moaning come down the hallway, and Jorge’s voice shortly after that.  

“Perra! Coño!”  Jorge was pissed, obviously.  I’m sure his head probably didn’t feel too good, either.  

How is it that while I was trying to get myself out of a dangerous situation, I only made it worse?

I groaned to myself, frantically trying to think of some way, any way to get out of this.  If only it wasn’t for that fucking elevator!

At least they hadn’t found me. Maybe if they thought I escaped, they wouldn’t think to look for me here.

When I heard Jorge’s cell phone ring, his voice shaking as he spoke on the phone to Sergio, I knew my guardian angel was looking out for me.

“El Jefe, I’m so sorry.  She got away.  She hit me over the head with a vase.”  

Sergio was yelling so loudly, that I could hear his string of Spanish cuss words come through the phone and all the way down the hall to my ears under the bed.

He was not a happy man.  I almost felt sorry for Jorge.  Almost.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Mason

I had never been so sick with worry in my life.  My mind raced with images of Rebel, and every moment of opportunity I had to have made some different choice that would have avoided this situation.

Maybe if I had just turned her away that first day.  If I hadn’t fucked her.  If I hadn’t followed her to the bus stop to offer her a ride.  If every single thing that happened hadn’t occurred, then maybe Rebel would be safe.

If she wasn’t anywhere near me, anywhere near the MC, maybe things would have turned out differently.  Harley was right all along.  This life was no place for her.  What had ever made me think she would be untouched by all the bullshit and violence that came along with the outlaw life?

I was an idiot, and this was all my fucking fault.

I knew Harley thought so, too.  I could see it in his eyes.  He was all business, and that was good — that was required.  But he couldn’t mask the blame that I saw when I looked at him.

And I deserved it.  

Fuck Sergio Garcia.  His face flashed in my mind, and the anger coursed through my body in hot waves when I thought about what I was going to do once I got my hands on his sleazy neck.   What kind of man goes to another man’s house and kidnaps his sister, when he was the one that fucked up in the first place?

I couldn’t believe that he would target Rebel in this way.  It didn’t seem like his style, but he had.  

I shuddered when I thought about what she was going through, what she went through when they snatched her from Harley’s house.  She must have been so terrified.

I couldn’t even think about what they might do to her in the few hours they had her.  My mind couldn’t bear to go there, not for a second.

I had to get her back.  We had to get her back.  Harley could blame me all he wanted, he could tell me I told you so as many times as he pleased, hell — he could beat the shit out of me if he wanted, I didn’t care — as long as we got Rebel back in one piece, I didn’t give a shit what happened to me.

When we got to the clubhouse, Harley and I thundered into the war room, everyone else already seated and waiting for us.

“This is personal, brothers,” Harley began.  “They’ve got Rebel, and that changes the rules.  We’re giving back the drugs for Rebel.  Once we have Rebel safe and sound and back where she belongs,” Harley glanced over at me, his eyes a mixture of so many emotions I wasn’t sure if he was going to cry or start shooting at me.  “Once we have her back, then we can discuss how to best deal with the Garcia cartel.  We couldn’t let them get away with doing a deal with El Loco Gatos, and we certainly can’t let them get away with this bullshit.  Right now, they have the upper hand because they have Rebel.  But that won’t last long.”

Everyone around the table nodded solemnly, each of them listening intently as Harley continued, relaying the details of the meeting.

“Alright, we ride in one hour.  Maverick, get the bag ready.”  Harley said, as he dismissed everyone from the war room.

I stayed seated, staring miserably out the window as the others trailed out of the room.

“Mason,”  Harley said.

“Yeah, man,” I replied.

“Look at me, dude,” he said.  I looked over at him reluctantly.

“Listen. I know you’re worried. I’m worried, too.  But Rebel’s tough and we are gonna get her out of there.”

“Oh, I know that,” I replied.  “This is all my fucking fault, Harley, I am so fucking sorry.”

“It’s not your fault at all, Mason, what the fuck?”

“But it is, my friend.  If I hadn’t touched her, hadn’t given her a place to stay, she would be long gone and none of this would have happened.”